


In the Dark of the Night

by lipah



Series: Gods and Monsters [6]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Derek Hale & Lydia Martin Friendship, Derek's POV, Emissary Stiles Stilinski, Eventual Happy Ending, Everyone knows about supernatural creatures, Evil Kate Argent, Full Shift Werewolves, I just want everyone happy, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mentioned Kate Argent, Mythology - Freeform, Not Beta Read, Past Kate Argent/Derek Hale, Self-Esteem Issues, Soulmates, The soulmate thing is important but a fairly small part of this, feel free to point them out and I'll fix them, sorry about mistakes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2018-11-01 04:25:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 106,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10914300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lipah/pseuds/lipah
Summary: It has been two years since Stiles disappeared and saved the pack, Derek is coping but that doesn't mean it's easy. Things have calmed down and now he just feels lonely and restless. The pack is worried about him, but the worry isn't helping. Derek just wants Stiles back. He just wants to pick back up where they left off and finally live their lives together.(I'm really bad at this summary thing)Series length: 150k+





	1. Chapter 1

There was darkness surrounding him, pressing in from all sides. It was never ending, all consuming, forever expanding. He curled in on himself, fingers digging into the skin of his arms, nails cutting lines in his flesh. His breathing was ragged and frantic, he tried desperately to count, but the numbers jumbled in his mind and he couldn’t remember the right order. His heart was racing in his chest, an oceans torrent of blood rushing through his ears. Each breath he dragged in burned his oesophagus and lungs, each breath became further apart, broken by hiccups and sobs. There was shouting around him, shuffling noises, hands on his shoulders, and then someone screamed. “Derek!”

 

Derek’s eyes snapped open and he gasped for air as he scrambled to remember where he was. He realised slowly, as his dream slipped away, that he was in his bedroom. He was tangled in the dark sheets of his bed, window open letting in the cool morning air and the first few rays of sunlight. He took slow deep breaths, filling his lungs with air, pain-free and easy. His room was still early morning dark, filled with the smell of morning dew and the strange feeling of wrongness that came with the early hours of the day. He moved slowly, untangling his sheets as he went, slowly getting to his feet and stretching out his limbs. He looked down at his cellphone on his side table, 4:02 AM displayed over the only picture of him and Stiles together that existed.

 

Derek picked up the phone, slid his finger to unlock it, and then swiped to an empty page. It was stupid, he knew, but being able to swipe the apps away and see him and Stiles laughing filled his heart. The feelings were a mix of joy and sadness that Derek wouldn’t trade for the world. The picture wasn’t good quality; they hadn’t even been the main focus of the photo. It had been taken at Stiles’ welcome party, a picture of Laura holding Sana in her arms, and they were over her shoulder. The photo was pixelated and only half of Derek was in the picture, but he loved it. He stared at it for a minute, trying to remember the lines of Stiles' face and the way he sounded when he laughed. Some days, he wasn’t even sure that he was really hearing what Stiles actually sounded like or that the picture in his mind was different from the man he had been with. He worried that one day Stiles would show up, and Derek wouldn’t even know who he was anymore.

 

It had been two years since Stiles had been trapped in purgatory, and Derek was still waiting for him. He ran his hand over his face, and up into his hair. Erica told him he was a wife, diligently waiting for his husband to return from sea. Some days, he felt like maybe she was right, and he hated that it bothered him less than he thought it should. So much had changed over the last two years of his life, and he desperately wanted to share the changes with Stiles. Erica and Boyd had a daughter, who was bright, happy, and smarter than any toddler had the right to be. Derek had started an architecture business and was doing well for himself. The apartment building was long finished and there was someone in each suite. He had almost finished construction on his house in the compound. It was the furthest one from the main house, almost putting Stiles’ greenhouse in the backyard.

 

Derek couldn’t bring himself to finish it yet, leaving him with an empty shell of a home, with walls and roof but little else. He didn’t want it to be his house; he wanted it to be their house. He wanted it to be decorated by both of them, with both of their personalities visible and fighting each other throughout the design. He wanted it to be a place he could grow, and change, and live, but now it was none of those things. It was just a skeleton, looming in the back of his mind, as a reminder of what he had lost. Derek changed into his workout clothing and decided that he would go for a jog through the preserve before his thoughts dragged him back under the covers of his bed.

 

He quietly made his way from his bedroom, through the living room and to the front door. Opening and closing the door quietly was hard, since Derek and Sam had agreed to keep the old metal door, but he did his best to keep from waking his brother. Derek took the stairs down and out of the building, jogging along a familiar path into the preserve. The pack had grown even more over the last two years, children being born and members finding their soulmates as time went on. With the way the pack was going, Derek figured they would own all of Beacon Hills eventually. Even without the pack, Beacon Hills was growing, attracting more and more people each year.

 

He twisted through the trees following a dirt pathway that he may have beaten down by himself. It would take him just over an hour to finish his jog, including a stop at Stiles greenhouse to tend to his plants. Derek by no means had a green thumb, in fact in the first few months of trying to care for the garden he had managed to kill a good selection of plants by over or under watering them. Lydia had found him, and scolded him for not doing better research before throwing himself at it. She had made him a binder, with pictures of each plant and instructions on how to care for each one. He still wasn’t perfect at it, but it kept the plants alive for when Stiles got home again.

 

On the second half of his jog, he normally went slower, taking in the sound of the world slowly waking up, but he was early today. So, he finished with the garden, and then set a brisk pace on his loop back to the apartment. Sam would be awake when he got home, needing to be ready for his shift at the police station. It had been a rough two years for Sam, but he was getting better now. He still couldn’t bring himself to go through the front door of the main house, but no one commented on it. They just greeted him at the back door and ushered him inside. The pack had also relaxed around him, some of them even apologising for how they avoided him. Sam had been one of the ones to find his soulmate. Ten months ago lines started appearing on his skin. She was a soft-spoken young woman named Eilís who lived in Ireland. She and Sam were in the middle of planning her move to Beacon Hills in the next few months. She had spent most of her time here over the last few months here anyway; it just made sense that she made the move permanent.

 

Derek was approaching the edge of the woods when everything around him went silent. The birds stopped singing and the wind stopped blowing. Derek slowed down until he was walking slowly through the trees. He kept moving toward the apartment, confident that the pack would be safe behind the barrier that was still holding strong two years after Stiles set it up. But, he also knew that he was closer to the apartment than the protected area, and the apartment had members of the pack there. The silence was broken, by the sound of rustling branches behind him. Derek stopped and turned around, just in time to see a small creature come out onto the path. He stared at it for a minute, furrowing his brow and frowning at it.

 

The creature, that Derek was pretty sure was a ferret, sat down in the middle of the path. For a second it was quiet, but then it opened its mouth and clicked at him. He had never heard the noise a ferret made before but had never thought that would be it. “You’re going to get eaten,” Derek said a minute after the ferret stopped making noise. He took a step back, watching the ferret for a minute longer, and then he turned around and finished his jog home. He didn’t look back to see what the ferret was doing, deciding it was too early in the morning for thing kind of weirdness. It wasn’t until he was about to step onto the elevator, that he noticed the ferret was at his feet.

 

“What the hell?” Derek managed to say, as it stepped passed him and sat in the middle of the elevator. Derek stared at the creature again, watching its tail twitch impatiently, then it clicked at him, and he stepped onto the elevator too. He pressed the button for the penthouse, closed the door, and then spent the ride switching his attention between the floor indicator and the ferret. When it dinged to let him know it was his floor he jumped, grabbed the door handle and yanked it open. The ferret waited for a second, then trotted passed him, and then trotted the few steps from the elevator to his front door. “I’m not letting you in,” Derek said. The ferret looked up at him, and clicked a few more times, before looking back at the door.

 

Derek wasn’t sure what was happening, but the idea that he was arguing with a ferret struck him as hilarious, and suddenly he was laughing. A minute later, the front door was pulled open, Sam standing in front of him looking surprised. He was already dressed in his uniform, the only thing missing was his shoes. “What are you doing?” he asked but all Derek managed to do was point down at the ferret. Sam looked down, just in time to see the ferret shoot past him into the apartment. “What the hell?” Sam snapped echoing Derek’s earlier statement. Derek stood in the hallway until he had calmed down, and then he went inside. The ferret had scrambled through the main room and into the kitchen, where it had somehow gotten on top of the fridge.

 

“Ooh, it’s cute!” Eilís said standing on her tiptoes to try and get a better look at the ferret. She was also already dressed for the day, her purse by the front door with a small carry-on bag. Her long cherry blonde hair was tugged up into a messy bun on top of her head. Derek had agreed to drop her off at the airport later that day, for the last trip back to Ireland before she lived here full time. “Got a pet, Derek?”

 

“No, it followed me back from the preserve,” he answered.

 

“Well get it out of here,” Sam said, “it’s probably dirty.”

 

“It’s probably just scared,” Eilís said.  “Getting stuck in the building.”

 

“It’s not stuck,” Derek answered. “It got into the elevator and then went to the door by itself. It seems pretty tame, someone probably lost it.”

 

“I could make some lost posters to hang up before we head off,” she said carefully extending a finger toward the ferret. It inched closer to her, sniffing her finger, and then scooting back away before she could touch it.

 

“That’s probably a good idea,” Derek answered.

 

“I’ve never seen a polecat up close,” Eilís said finally stepping away from the refrigerator.

 

“I thought it was a ferret,” Derek said.

 

“I think they’re pretty well the same animal,” Eilís said.

 

“Either way, I don’t want it in the apartment,” Sam said. He was still standing at the edge of the kitchen, arms crossed over his chest, looking uncomfortable.

 

“You were literally raised by wolves, and you’re scared of a tiny thing like that?” Derek said jerking his thumb over his shoulder toward the creatures.

 

“I’m not scared of it!” Sam snapped but it was unconvincing. Eilís smiled at him and then laughed, her eyes lit up and she opened her mouth to say something. Derek watched as Sam raised an eyebrow at her and frowned.

 

“You’d better get going, you’re going to be late,” Eilís said, instead of whatever teasing comment he was sure she wanted to say. She held her arms out to Sam, asking for a hug, but he didn’t move. So after a minute, she laughed and went over to give him a hug and a kiss goodbye. Derek turned away from them and stared out over the kitchen and into the dining room. He realised there was breakfast set out on the table; four place settings but only three plates with food on them. Derek sighed softly, he didn’t know how it started but his family always set a place for Stiles, even the ones who weren’t really sure he was ever coming back. Derek appreciated it, the unwavering faith that other’s shared with him, but appreciation didn’t stop the ache that the gesture caused.

 

He ate breakfast alone, Sam and Eilís stepped out into the hallway for more privacy as they said goodbye. He hated that he was jealous of them, and he hated the anger that came with the jealousy. He wanted to shout at them, that she was only going to be gone for two months and they’d still talk every single freaking day. He wanted to yell at them every time she left, but he didn’t because it wasn’t fair to them. He knew that. He knew they weren’t doing it to make him feel bad, and he knew they were aware of his jealousy. It was part of the reason they stepped into the hallway, behind the huge metal door, to give Derek a little more space with less chance of him hearing them. He scrapped his fork over the plate louder than he needed to, put his mug on the table harder, and when he finished eating he sunk down in his chair feeling stupid.

 

Eilís came back into the apartment as he gathered all the dishes and loaded them into the dishwasher. She went back into the kitchen and peeked back up at the creature on top of the refrigerator. “I’ll get my laptop and start on that poster,” she said after a minute.

 

“Thanks,” he said. “I’m going to call Scott after I drop you off, to see if he’ll come by and look at it. Maybe he’ll know if it’s a ferret or polecat.” The creatures clicked a few times, making Eilís laughed and then nodded her head. Derek went back to the table, grabbing the unused place setting, and carried it back to the kitchen. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Eilís take a step toward her carry-on, but then hesitate as Derek put the mug and plate back into the cupboard.

 

“Derek… can I ask you something?” she said slowly.

 

“Sure.”

 

“I was wondering…” she said holding her hands in front of herself, intertwining her fingers. She was silent for a second, and then shook her head. “Never mind, it’s really not that important. I’ll do the poster first and then if I’m still wondering, I’ll ask.”

 

“Okay,” Derek said. She turned away from him and hurried over to get her laptop. “Whatever works?” Eilís set her computer up at the island that divided the kitchen and dining room area. Derek decided that he would shower and get changed, instead of worrying about her. It didn’t take much time for her to have a poster made up, a picture of the creature she took with her phone in the middle of the page. She put Derek’s cell phone number at the bottom and the word ‘Found’ in all capital letters along the top. They printed out a stack of posters and then realised it was time to leave for the airport.

 

“Do you have everything?” Derek asked as Eilís picked up her bags.

 

“I’m leaving my other stuff here,” she answered, letting Derek pull the door open. They had just stepped out into the hallway when Derek stopped.

 

“Shit,” he said and went back inside. “What am I going to do with that?” He pointed at the creature on top of the fridge.

 

“It hasn’t moved so far,” she said.

 

“What do they eat?” he asked. “I don’t really want to take it in the car with me… I don’t have a cage or anything for it.” Derek looked around the apartment for a minute, until he came back with a blanket.

 

“The internet says polecats eat rabbits, rats, and amphibians… Ferrets eat similar foods, mice, rats, or chicken. Meat mostly…” Eilís said.

 

“Oh good,” Derek muttered as he dragged a chair from the living room to the fridge. He draped the towel over the back of the chair and looked at the creature for a second. “Any chance you’ll let me lock you in the bathroom until I get back?” The creature clicked a few times, shuffling to the edge of the fridge and climbing onto Derek’s outstretched hand. He glanced over at Eilís, surprised by how easy it was, and then took the creature into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. He was glad that it had worked, having not really wanted to try and ball the thing up in the blanket he had grabbed. As soon as the creature was secured, they were out the door, and hurrying to his car.

 

“Thank you,” Eilís said as they pulled out onto the highway.

 

“For what?” Derek asked.

 

“Always driving me,” she answered. “Sam’s been so busy working, and you’ve been so accommodating. You’re a good brother.”

 

“He’d do it for me,” Derek said without thinking, but as soon as they were said, he wanted to take them back. Eilís made a noise next to him, soft and a little unsure. Then she shifted so she wasn’t looking at him anymore.

 

“The thing I was going to ask you earlier,” Eilís said speaking slowly again like she was worried he was going to bite her. “I… well…”

 

“Is it about Stiles?” he asked. “My soulmate,” he added for clarification. He didn’t know how much Eilís knew, but he was sure that Sam had told her about what happened. She knew about what happened with their father, so it stood to reason she would know the rest.

 

“Yes… but if you don’t want to talk about it—”

 

“It's fine,” Derek answered.

 

“I… I was wondering how long you two were together?” she asked. Derek glanced over at her, a little surprised that, that was her question.

 

“Not long,” he answered, “about six months.”

 

“Oh…” she mumbled. “I had thought… I thought it must have been longer.”

 

“Why?”

 

“The way the pack speaks of him,” she answered. “Like he’s always been there.”

 

“He’s known the pack longer than he’s known me,” Derek said. “He went to school with them, he’ a few years younger than me, so I didn’t really know him. I went to college and he became, even more, part of the pack. Our bond appeared just after I got back home.”

 

“I see…” she said. “I just… I’m sorry, this is awful of me, but I can’t help but compare how things are going with Sam and I. When I see the others together, or even when I hear stories of you and Stiles… I keep finding myself jealous.”

 

“You’re jealous?”

 

“I know it’s selfish of me… I’ve just heard so much. And my parents didn’t work out, they were soulmates and before I was born they were apparently happy. My dad took a job in another city when I was small and my mum couldn’t deal with the distance or a child. She had affairs for years because she was lonely without him there. Or, that’s what she said… It’s partly why I’ve been over here so much, I thought… I really thought that the loneliness would be impossible to deal with. Then, I met you, and I’ve learned about it all, and I find out that you’re just waiting. Unsure if you’ll ever even see him again, but you just keep… waiting,” Eilís rambled.

 

“I’m not unsure,” Derek said when she paused.

 

“What?”

 

“I’m not unsure if I’ll ever see him again. I know I will and…” Derek paused and glanced over at her. “I’m going to tell you something, and it’s never going to leave this car, alright?”

 

“Okay?”

 

“You can’t tell the pack, I would never hear the end of it.”

 

“Alright, I promise,” she said.

 

“This is the stupidest and sappiest thing I’ve ever said, but I live for the nights that I dream about him. And, the times I get to see new pictures that the pack has. So, even if Stiles never comes back and I’m alone until I die. I’m going to wait for him because I had him for six months, and even through all the pain and stress, I was happy with him.”

 

“I’ve never met anyone, with devotion like you have…” she said softly.

 

“You’ve met my mum,” he said. “She has it.” Eilís let out a huff of air that Derek thought was meant to be a laugh.

 

“Maybe it’s a Hale thing,” she said.

 

“Sam’s a Hale,” Derek said after a beat of silence.

 

“But I’m not,” Eilís answered.

 

“Not yet,” Derek said. Eilís coughed suddenly, and when Derek glanced at her again, she had turned to stare out the window.

 

“You Hales’…” she mumbled. “Is it true, that Stiles told you he loved you the moment he saw you? Cora said it to me.”

 

“He kind of did…” Derek answered. “He said it when I made a stupid joke, but… we—we never said it again. He didn’t mean it then either. We didn’t even know each other yet, it was… it was a hopefully thing.” They lapsed into silence for a few minutes, letting Derek focus on the road, and Eilís think.

 

“Do you still write to him?” she asked, holding her hand in front of herself. Derek could see a misshapen heart drawn on the back of her hand, and slowly appearing lines around it. Sam must have slipped off to the washroom to draw on himself. It probably wouldn’t be on her hand for long, the sheriff requesting they kept their communication private.

 

“I… I’ve never written to him,” Derek confused.

 

“What?”

 

“I’ve never written to him,” he repeated.

 

“Why not?” she asked, but he just shook his head. He could feel tears in his eyes, and he started to blink frantically to try and stop them from falling. Eilís seemed to realise, and settled into the passenger seat and let the conversation end. Derek wanted to hit himself for saying anything, he knew that she would tell Sam, and Sam would bring it up. Derek still hadn’t been able to write to Stiles, but he had never told anyone that. Instead, he let the pack assume he had, let them think it was hidden under sleeves or pant legs. He had tried, he had wanted to scribble all over himself, but each time he brought the pen to his skin he panicked. What if Stiles didn’t answer? What if he did answer and had been ignoring him for some reason? What if it somehow put Stiles in more danger? There were too many thoughts and fears along with it, so instead he didn’t do it at all.

 

They were silent all the way to the airport, Eilís thanking him again and saying goodbye when they reached the check in area. She gave him a sad smile and then turned and walked away. Derek waited long enough to make sure nothing was wrong with her ticket, and then he left. He sent Scott a text message, asking if he was able to meet Derek at his apartment, and then he drove back to Beacon Hills with a ball of self-loathing in his stomach.

 

Scott was already there when he arrived, waiting in front of his door with his hands in his pockets. There was an animal carrier on the ground next to his feet, and Derek hoped that meant Scott was going to take it with him. “Sam called me,” Scott said. “Apparently you have a rodent in your place?”

 

“It’s a polecat or a ferret we think,” Derek answered, digging out his keys and unlocked the door.

 

“Cool!” Scott said. “Definitely not a rodent, it’s a mustelid. Is it that big? Where did you find it?” Scott asked.

 

“The preserve, when I was jogging, followed me home.” Derek let Scott in and then went to retrieve the creature from the bathroom. The creatures had curled up in the middle of the rug but hopped up as soon as Derek reached for it. He carried it out to Scott, putting it down on the living room table. “Here you go.” The creature was wary of Scott, but let him look it over.

 

“It looks a bit different than the ferrets I’ve worked with. It's head is different, so I’m gonna say you’ve found a polecat. Probably belongs to someone in town, hopefully, someone looking for it. Also, she’s a girl,” Scott said, after flipping the polecat onto its back and checking it out. “She’s not in heat or anything either, which is good. Well fed, good weight and seems cared for. But I’ll take her with me and run some tests on her.”

 

“Thanks,” Derek said. “Sam doesn’t want her here. I think he’s scared of her.” Scott laughed and tucked the polecat into the cage he had brought.

 

“His text made it sound like you were scared of her,” Scott said. As soon as the cage clicked shut, the polecat seemed to realise what was happening. She started spinning and jumping in circles, clicking and hissings as she went. “Don’t do that,” Scott said softly.

 

“She seems well behaved, I don’t really know if you need the cage,” Derek said, but Scott just shrugged at him.

 

“Better safe than sorry,” he said and then noticed the stack of posters. “Want me to take some of those? I have some stuff to do around town today, I can put them up?”  

 

“Yeah, let me know if it’s okay,” Derek said. “I can pay for whatever needs to be done.”

 

“It’s not your pet, Derek. I can take care of it. It’ll be fine,” Scott said.

 

“Thanks.”

 

“You get Eilís to the airport okay?” Scott asked as he stepped back into his shoes by the door. He had the carrier in one hand and the whole stack of posters under the other arm.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“That’s good, bet Sam’s excited that this is the last time a part for a while,” Scott said.

 

“Scott… does the pack talk about Stiles often?” Derek asked as Scott was about to leave.

 

“What do you mean?” he asked.

 

“Eilís mentioned that she’s been told about him,” Derek said. Scott shifted a little and then nodded his head.

 

“Yeah, we talk about him pretty often, I think,” Scott said.

 

“But not when I’m around,” Derek said. Scott looked a little guilty then but nodded again.

 

“It’s hard, you know, not waiting to upset you. Since sometimes you seem so sad about it… we figured it better to… limit the conversation,” Scott explained.

 

“I guess,” Derek answered.

 

“If you want, I can tell the others it’s fine, and we can talk more about it,” Scott said, but Derek just shook his head.

 

“It’s fine. I know it’s probably uncomfortable for you guys.”

 

“We can get used to it,” Scott answered.

 

“It’s fine, Scott. Things are fine,” Derek said and pulled open the front door. The polecat was still hissing and clicking inside the cage, but neither Derek nor Scott really seemed to notice it. Scott hesitated at the door, but after a minute he left. There was an argument coming later, Derek was sure when Scott talked to the others. For now, though, he wanted to be alone. He closed and locked the door behind Scott, sighing as he turned back to the empty apartment. He wasn’t lying, when he said things were fine, he also knew it wasn’t fair to the other members of the pack. He knew that he and Stiles barely knew each other, they had just been starting to really learn, but it didn’t change the fact the Derek felt the way he did.

 

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and stared down at the picture of them feeling strange. It was just a bad day, he reminded himself, they came often but they always passed. If he needed, he could phone Boyd or his mother, and they would talk about nothing under he felt better again. They would invite him over for lunch or dinner, and things would settle with him. He turned off his phone, stuffed it into his pocket and went to continuing working on the plans for a house that he had been contracted to design.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was planning on writing this whole story out before posting it but changed my mind, because I don't know how long it's going to end up. This story will resolve what happens at the end of the last one, promise!
> 
> I realised that this chapter is almost as long as the first story I did in this AU.


	2. Chapter 2

There were people around him, closing in on him, pressing things against his sides. He could feel cold metal on him, slicing through him, tearing him apart as he screamed. Whoever they were, they didn’t stop, they laughed as he screamed and begged for them to stop. Then the darkness swallowed him and he was nothing. There was no one now, no sound, no feelings at all but he was still there alone and terrified. Panic rose in his chest, as the darkness pressed in on him. He curled in on himself and tried counting. Then, someone was screaming, voice so filled with rage that he flinched against it. Suddenly, there was light around him again, it felt like his skin was on fire, and something was there. It was pressing on him, fingers on his skin and body, putting out the fire and burning him with sudden cold. The creature kept pressing until he was stumbling backwards and was falling.

 

He hit the ground, his skull bouncing against whatever was below him, and there was something on top of him. He kept trying to open his eyes, managing to get flashes of a face before his eyes were forced closed again. Its hands found his chest, then neck, and then mouth. It's long nailed fingers pried his lips open and forced its hands inside of him. The creature was laughing hysterically, crawling slowly and impossibly, inside of his mouth and into his body. He could feel it breaking from solid to liquid, oozing down his throat and through his limbs. He couldn’t lift his hands from his sides to defend himself; he couldn’t move his body at all. The creature felt familiar against him, and its laughter made his chest ache with a different pain. Then, it was inside of him. Spreading itself through his chest and limbs, forcing itself into the nooks and crannies of his person. Then he was lifting off the ground, eyes open and moving with a purpose that wasn’t his own.

               

There were people around him, watching him like they knew something was wrong, but he couldn’t speak. Instead, he walked through them, and he could see that they were afraid. Then his body shifted and it hurt like it had never hurt before. He roared as his teeth grew and claw extended. The people around him were screaming now, shouting and running for weapons, but some of the others were changing, shifting into terrified wolves. They were running from him but he was faster than them. He was on top of them, tearing at fur and flesh, taking chunks away from them as he tore through the people who had killed him.

 

He couldn’t bring himself to stop until there was someone in front of him. A man made of lightning and power, with dark skin and bright eyes. He was grabbing his shoulder, pressing the shift away, letting him become human again. “Do not be like them any longer.” All he could do was slowly nod his head at the other man. Then someone else was there, with soft hands and kind words he couldn’t understand. He thought they must have been humming at him, the longer they were near him, their humming slowed. He collapsed against them, curled into the kind warmth of the other, and closed his eyes. He could feel a hand running through his hair, as someone leant close to him and whispered. “Derek.”

 

Derek jerked awake again, taking in a deep breath, and searching his surroundings. He was at his desk, papers spread out in front of him, and the early morning light filtering through his window. His keyboard was on the ground next to him, and there was a half answered email on his computer screen, when he moved the mouse. He must have fallen asleep while he was working last night, but he was surprised he had been able to sleep through the whole night at the desk. He moved slowly, pushing her chair away from the desk, and stretched his limbs as he went. He’d always had nightmares, ever since Kate, but they’d never been so vivid.

 

He could still feel the blood on his hands, the ringing of screams in his ears, and the strangeness that came with it all. He let himself shift slowly, watching his hands change as he went, and it was just the same. “Derek?” Sam called from outside his door.

 

“Yeah?” he answered. The door swung open and Sam paused when he saw him standing there.

 

“Everything okay?” he asked. He looked uncomfortable, even a little afraid of him, so Derek shifted back.

 

“Yeah, I just had a dream,” he said flexing his fingers slowly. “Things were just a little strange.”

 

“So you shifted?” he asked.

 

“Just to check,” he answered. “It’s nothing to worry about.”

 

“Okay,” Sam mumbled but he seemed unconvinced. “Well, I’m leaving for work and then I’m going out with some of the guys for dinner, so I’ll be home late.”

 

“Alright,” Derek answered. Sam stared at him for another moment, like he wasn’t sure what to make of him, then he stepped out of the room and closed the door. Derek could feel Sam’s eyes still on him, long after he had left for work, and no matter what he did he couldn’t shake the feeling. He went back to work, answering his emails and finishing the pile of paperwork he had to do. He decided, once everything else was done, to go and tend to Stiles’ greenhouse, to try and make his skin stop crawling. He managed to get onto the elevator before he was stopped. The doors opened and sitting in the middle of the lobby was the polecat. She had a pink paper collar around her neck and looked a little puffier than Derek remembered.

 

It had only been a few days since Scott had taken the stack of posters, and so far no one had called about the animal. Scott said she was in good health but seemed to hate being at the vet’s office, and seeing her now, Derek assumed she had escaped. “Hello again,” he mumbled. She shot forward and fairly ungracefully began to climb his leg. Derek reached down and lifted her into his hands. She started clicking at him again, wiggling around like he had offended her, and she was telling him off. He wouldn’t have been surprised if that was true.

 

“Derek, what are you doing?” Cora called from down the hallway. She was standing in front of her apartment door, one hand on her hip, with an eyebrow raised at him. She was still dressed in her pyjamas, hair pulled up into a messy ponytail, looking like she had no plans for the day at all. Cora had moved into one of the suites on the first floor of the building just after it had been finished. Derek liked having his siblings around for the most part, but right now, he could have done without her.

 

“The polecat came back,” he said holding her out.

 

“That thing that Sam’s scared of?” she asked suddenly sounding eager to see it. She came down the hallways, leaving the door to her suite partly open. “It’s cute,” she said when she was closer to it.

 

“And following me,” he said. Derek felt his phone vibrate against his leg, and carefully transferred the polecat from his hands into Cora’s. The polecat seemed a little offended but ultimately unworried. He answered the phone without looking, but a second later he could hear Scott on the other end of the phone.

 

“Derek!” he said, “I lost it!”

 

“I know,” Derek answered.

 

“She was just in her cage, and now it’s open, and she’s not in the office! I think she—What?”

 

“I have her,” Derek answered watching Cora pet the polecat. “Seems she found her way back here.”

 

“Oh good,” Scott said sounding like he was deflating a little. “I’ve never had something escape before. Not when I was actually in the building, anyway.”

 

“Guess she’s smart,” Derek said.

 

“You should keep her,” Cora said.

 

“That’s not a bad idea,” Scott said, “I don’t really have space here, but I can bring you some food for her and stuff.”

 

“I don’t think Sam will be too happy about that,” Derek said but he didn’t actually mind the idea.

 

“I’ll convince him,” Cora said.

 

“Just until we find her owner,” Scott said.

 

“If Cora can get Sam to agree, then that’s fine,” Derek said.

 

“Cool, I’ll bring some stuff over after work!” Scott said, “I gotta go! I’m already late for an appointment, I was just worried about her, so I figured I’d call an—”

 

“Scott,” Derek interrupted, “it’s fine, just go.”

 

“Thanks! I’ll be by later! Bye,” Scott said, almost all as one word before he hung up. Cora was already holding the polecat out to Derek, by the time the call ended. She was wiggling in her hands, and as soon as Derek was close enough she jumped at him.

               

“She’ll need a name,” Cora said.

 

“She probably already has one,” Derek said as the polecat made her way up his arm and onto his shoulders. She curled around his neck, letting her paws hang on either side of her neck. Cora laughed a little but smiled widely at him.

 

“Well until you know, what are you going to call her?”

 

“I wasn’t really planning on calling her anything,” Derek said, reaching up and running a finger carefully under her chin. “She doesn’t seem like the type to be called anyway.”

 

“Stubborn, adorable, rebellious, and a little hyper, seems like she’s your type,” Cora said and then she flinched. “Sorry, I didn’t—”

 

“It’s fine, Cora,” he said because it really was. It didn’t upset him when they mentioned Stiles; it wasn’t bad until they started acting like they had done something wrong. Derek turned away from her a little so that he was looking out the front doors of the building, instead of at her. He could still see her start to frown, and the strange look of worry that she took on.

 

“Okay,” she said using the same tone Sam had used earlier that morning.

 

“I’ve got to get going,” Derek said.

 

“We’re doing lunch at mum’s,” Cora said suddenly. “Isaac, Erica, and Lydia will be there. You should come.” Derek glanced back at her; she still looked worried probably more then she wanted to look.

 

“Isn’t this one of those things, where you all get together, to talk about how I need to get a life?” Derek asked trying to lighten the mood a little. Cora smiled but it didn’t reach her eyes like she was just humouring him.

 

“Yeah, but we can talk about that with you there,” she said. Derek agreed in the end but told her that he needed to tend to the greenhouse first. She said she’d see him there before she went back into her suite and let Derek head off. The polecat stayed firmly on his shoulders, seeming content to use him as a perch for now. Derek didn’t mind but felt a little silly when he passed a few people in the parking lot. He drove to the greenhouse, parking in the unused driveway of _his_ house. The daylight made the house look more alive than it was, bouncing off the windows and lighting up the yard. Derek didn’t go into the house, just walked around the edge of it, to get to the greenhouse.

 

Derek took the binder from a small table near the front of the greenhouse, pulled out a dry erase marker that was tucked inside and started checking all of the plants. At first, Derek had been a little offended by the laminated pages at the start of the binder. There were rows of boxes to check off once he had tended to that specific plant, with bullet point instructions, and a number indicating which page had more information on it. Derek had felt like Lydia was just being a jerk, but in the end, he appreciated it. He didn’t have the head for plants, often not realising he was even looking at the wrong one until a few days later when I was starting to die. A few pack members had made fun of the binder, ordered by where the plant was in the greenhouse and colour coded, but the teasing had faded when Lydia snapped at them.

 

He moved from plant to plant, avoiding the few plants that the wolves reacted badly to, leaving them for Lydia when she had the time. Derek had learned that there was a second greenhouse further in the preserve that Deaton tended to now. It housed the plants that were dangerous to the pack, human and supernatural creatures alike. Deaton kept it locked, to keep anyone from wandering inside, but that wasn’t really a problem in the long run. Some of the plants had a strong enough smell, that even the human members of the pack, could smell it through the glass walls.

 

He was almost finished when the polecat started fidgeting on his shoulders and then launched herself onto a table of flower pots. Derek turned to see her tearing at a lily that had fallen over, he reached out for her, but she scampered away from him, ducking under some leaves, and then stopped to tear at a white carnation. “What are you doing?” he asked as she moved onto the leaves of a plant that was in a pot on the ground. She tore a few of the flowers free from the plant before she seemed pleased with what she’d done, and hurried back over to Derek. He grabbed the binder and flipped through the pages until he found gladiolus and information on it. He scanned the page, eyes landing on the words _‘funeral flower’._ He flipped through the pages until he found lilies and then carnations, each with the note that they were used in funerals. “Do you know something I don’t?” he asked softly.

 

The polecat clicked at him and then climbed into his hands when he offered them. He let her back up onto his shoulders and then slowly finished with the greenhouse. He gathered the flowers and the petals she had pulled free and tossed them into a compost container just outside the greenhouse. He could hear a car in the distance when he stepped outside, Erica’s old beat up Chevy that she had bought when their pup was born. He pulled the greenhouse doors closed and made his way across the compound to the main house. His mother greeted him at the back door, pulled him into a hug, and then startled at the sight of the polecat. “What is that?” she asked.

 

“A polecat,” he answered.

 

“Why is it there?”

 

“She likes it there,” Derek answered. Talia frowned at him, furrowing her brow and pursing her lips. “I really don’t know, mum. She just likes it there, I gave her to Scott, but she broke out and came back.”

 

“Okay,” she said softly making Derek flinch. She used the same soft worried tone that Cora and Sam had used, making his skin crawl.

 

“Cora invited me,” he said suddenly to try and force a subject change.

 

“I’m glad,” Talia said and waved him through the house. “I have work to do, but they are in the kitchen,” she told him. Derek faltered when he reached the kitchen, having not realised that his mother wasn’t going to be part of this. Lydia was the one who greeted him first, followed by Isaac, Erica and a very excited Aella who screamed when she saw him. She wiggled out of her mother’s lap, thumping to the floor, and racing at Derek’s legs. Malia, Cora, and Danny were there as well, sitting around the kitchen table.

 

“Der!” she shouted as she collided with his legs.

 

“Happiest she’s been all day,” Erica said. “I’ll never be anyone’s favourite, I guess.”

 

“She’d probably like Stiles best if he was still around,” Isaac said, and like Cora had in the morning, looked startled and then apologised. It was getting worse, Derek realised, as more and more times passed. Maybe it was because he hadn’t moved into the house? Maybe they thought he was going to snap? He ignored Isaac’s apology and lifted Aella off the ground after she started to chant the word up at him. She squealed loudly when she saw the polecat, and the creature launched itself from his shoulders again, landing clumsily on the countertop and scampering into the sink.

 

“You brought the polecat?” Cora asked.

 

“She won’t leave me alone,” Derek answered.

 

“Well at least you finally have a friend,” Erica said trying to disperse the unnecessary tension. Derek focused on Aella, instead of the conversation; he helped the little girl eat and listened to her babble about nothing at all. The conversation shifted suddenly, to high school and memories that Derek wasn’t part of. They spoke freely, laughing and joking, before stopping abruptly midsentence or thought when Stiles must have been involved in the story. Then they’d start again on a new topic, but Stiles was always mentioned. Stiles who permeated their friend group, who had brought them together, and seemed to be unwilling to leave them even when he was gone.

 

Derek silently wished they would just talk about him, let him hear about all the stupid things his mate had done when he was younger. He wanted to learn about him through memories and fond retellings of bad choices. “Sorry,” Cora finally said when another story came to an end. Derek looked up at her when he realised she was apologising to him. “Maybe it was a bad idea to invite you…”

 

“It’s fine, Cora,” Derek said and sighed. “I’ve told you a million times, it’s fine.”

 

“Honestly, it’s because you always look so tense,” Erica said.

 

“I’m always tense,” he said through gritted teeth.

 

“Do we really want to be talking about this?” Danny asked but was ignored.

 

“I’m just worried,” Cora snapped back at him.

 

“Why?”

 

“Because all you do is work!” she answered. “Work and pretend nothing is wrong!”

 

“Nothing is wrong and I’m here, aren’t I?” he snapped. “You’re the one who just said—”

 

“You’re the one who’s hiding in your apartment all the time! You come out once in a while, but you never say anything anymore! You seem like you’re going to explode one day! How can you act like nothing is wrong?” Cora shouted. Derek stood up, turning away from the group, and stalking out of the kitchen.

 

“Derek!” Malia yelled after him. He only made it a few more steps before Cora had grabbed his shoulder.

 

“You’re acting like a child, Derek!” she snapped. He spun around, knocking her hand from his shoulder, and pushing her back away from him.

 

“I’m fine!” Derek shouted. “What am I supposed to do? Pretend that I never met him at all? Pretend that he’s never coming back? What do you want me to do? I barely even knew him! It was six months, two years ago, Cora! Kate fucked around with me longer than I even knew Stiles existed!” Derek shouted the words tumbling out of his mouth without any thought behind them. Cora’s eyes went wide and she stepped back away from him. He could suddenly feel tears burning in his eyes, so he turned around and ran from the house. He heard his mother’s voice call after him, but he ran toward the empty house at the back of the compound.

 

He pushed the unlocked door open, stumbling inside, and slamming it closed behind him. Why the hell had he even mentioned Kate? What the hell was wrong with him? He stumbled through the empty rooms until he was in the kitchen area where there were boxes to sit on. He sat down, resting his elbows on his knees, and putting his head in his hands. He started to sob painfully, feeling stupid and angry, but unable to stop it. Cora was right, he wasn’t fine and all he did was work, but he didn’t know what else to do about it. He had never been good at coping with hard times, always stumbling into something stupid when he tried. He stayed there, sitting on the box of a large industrial sink he had purchased but never installed until Lydia showed up.

 

She knocked on the front door, to let him know she was coming inside, and then made her way toward him. She was carrying the polecat and a bottle of water, which she offered to him. Derek took it carefully and then shifted over on the box so she could sit next to him. Lydia was a strange person, Derek had always thought. She was tough as nails, smarter than anyone he had met, and so kind when she cared about you. “You’re allowed not to be fine, Derek,” she said softly. “You’re also allowed to grieve someone who isn’t dead. You don’t need to keep holding onto the loss you’re feeling, Stiles wouldn’t want that.”

 

“I wouldn’t know,” he mumbled and then took a swing from the water bottle.

 

“But I do,” she answered. The polecat settled in her lap, curling around itself on her skirt, and seemed to be going to sleep. “You’re tenser than normal,” she said after a minute.

 

“She told me something going to go wrong,” Derek mumbled gesturing to the polecat. Lydia raised her eyebrows at him, and Derek sighed. “She grabbed funeral flowers in the greenhouse.”

 

“Which ones?” Lydia asked running her hands along the polecat.

 

“Lilies, gladioli, and carnations,” he answered. Lydia hummed and nodded her head slowly.

 

“They are all used in funerals,” she said.

 

“That’s what’s in the binder,” Derek answered.

 

“But… they’re also used to symbolise other things,” she said turning to look at him. “Lilies mean hope and remembrance. Carnations mean love and affection, and gladioli mean faithfulness and not giving up.” Derek swallowed around the lump that had formed in his throat when he had been crying. Lydia didn’t seem to notice or mind and just kept talking. “It’s easy to be confused about things going on, especially in a world like ours, but I think things are going to get better.”

 

“Why’s that?” he asked. Lydia looked down at the polecat, before carefully lifting her up and offering her to Derek.

 

“Because her name’s Gale,” she said. The polecat climbed into Derek’s hands, ran up his arm, and settled on his shoulders again. “She’s one of Hecate’s familiars.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout outs to lrafael98 and Blackened_Ice for guessing things that were coming/planned.
> 
> Also, I think most of this story will be from Derek's POV, I am also working on what's happening with Stiles, but will probably post it as it's own thing to keep thing organised.


	3. Chapter 3

The world around him was warm this time, still dark and empty but warm. He could hear waves crashing against a shore and wind whipping through trees. He was moving forward, stumbling through trees, catching glimpses of light from beyond the woods.  He could hear voices as well, people screaming and begging for help. He ran until he was breaking through the trees and racing through a farm. There were men, they were laughing and cheering each other on. There were foul words shouted into the air, ringing in his ears as he ran. He crashed through the back door of a barn, racing past panicked animals, and throwing open the barn doors. “Let her go!” someone screamed, desperate and frantic. “She’s a child!”

 

“Get her down now, hold her still,” someone else was saying while laughing the hardest, wicked and dark sounding. He was still running and then he was on top of the thieves and rapists. He tore the man off of the girl child, the other men around her scattered away from him. He lifted the man into the air, hand around his throat, claws digging into his flesh and his lips curled back to bare his teeth. The man thrashed in his grip until he dropped him to the ground. There was a second where no one around him moved, and then the man was running from the farm. The girl was staring up at him, eyes wide and scared. Her dress was torn but she was still covered, still clothed and unhurt. She scrambled away from him after a minute, racing to the only other remaining person, a young man, with wild brown hair and bright green eyes.

 

He pushed her behind him and stood with his shoulders squared and a furious look on his face. He must have been the one begging, moments before, for the thieves to leave them. “Thank you,” he said after a minute of silence.

 

“You’re welcome.” The voice was startling and not at all what had been expected. It was soft and soothing, a woman’s voice that was made for singing. The man seemed startled as well, his shoulders relaxing and his weight shifting.

 

“I didn’t know women were cursed to be wolves,” he said.

 

“A curse I carry, because of my father,” she answered.

 

“Why did you protect her?” he asked.

 

“I’ll always care for a child,” she answered. He regarded her, head tilted to the side, and squinting at her.

 

“What is your name?” he asked.

 

“I’m called Fedelmid,” she answered. She reached up and grabbed at her pelt, pulling it away from herself, and changing into a human woman. She wrapped the pelt around her like a dressed as the man turned his eyes from her naked body. “Who are you?” she asked.

 

“I’m Gaius,” he answered. The world narrowed around them, spinning slowly as they aged where they stood. Their bodies shifted and changed as they aged together, moving closer and closer until they were holding each other like a lifeline.

                He was there, for a moment, like he had been that woman and then he was pulling back and now he was watching them from afar. There was a web around them, lines racing through the darkness, connecting lines and lives. He could see them all, spiralling out like a spider’s web. One of the lines twisted through it all, fraying as it raced from its starting point, and then it was colliding with his chest. It forced through him, tearing through his flesh and exploding out his back. “Derek,” a voice said. “Derek please.”

 

Derek woke slowly this time, the dream hovering in his mind, taking longer to slip away from him. He reached slowly to his chest, pressing his palm down against the spot that the thread had gone. It was still sore and a little warmer than the rest of his chest. He looked at his bedside table, where Gale was curled up in a nest of old t-shirts. She was looking at him, black eyes watching him carefully like she was studying him. He reached his hand out toward her, to like her sniff at his fingers before petting her, and realised that he had shifted. Gale pulled back deeper into her burrow and clicked at him a few times. “Sorry,” he said softly.

 

He tried to relax against the bed, to ease the tension for his limbs and shift back. His wolf was restless; it was hanging close to the surface, making him have trouble concentrating on anything. It took him a few minutes, much longer than it should have, to shift back and once he had he felt strange. There was something humming inside his chest, making his headache and his limbs feel twitchy. He climbed out of bed, shaking his arms as he went. His phone beeped beside him and a message from Lydia appeared on the screen.

      

_'I’m on my way.’_

 

Derek knew very little about Lydia Martin when she was brought into the pack, just that she had no training to control her powers. She and Laura had bonded instantly, forming a friendship that terrified Derek. He had always been polite to her, making conversation when they were together, but nothing more. That was until he found Stiles, then Lydia had stepped into his life and told him it was time they got to know each other. She had told him that she and Stiles had been friends since the 3rd grade, and while she knew that Scott was his _best friend_ it was only because they were both boys and Scott had been there first. When Stiles had first been trapped, Lydia had started spending more time with Derek, and after he had shouted at Cora, she had decided they should spend more time together. They had agreed to meet for coffee and to talk, though Derek didn’t really know what about.

 

He drove to the coffee shop; Gale perched on his shoulders and met Lydia inside. She smiled at him and held out a cup of coffee that she had already ordered for him. “You were taking too long,” she said sounding inconvenienced. Derek looked at the side of the cup, where it had his normal coffee order printed on a sticker.

 

“How did you know how I like my coffee?” he asked.

 

“Stiles told me,” she answered waving her free hand through the air next to her. “As soon as he had it memorised.” Derek’s heart stuttered at the information, unable to believe that Stiles bothered to remember it, let alone pass it on to someone else.

 

“You remember it after two years?” he asked slowly.

 

“And other things,” she said raising her eyebrows at him. Derek choked on the sip of coffee he had taken and Lydia laughed. “Nothing inappropriate, honestly, but from that reaction, I’ll assume that you two managed to—as Stiles would say—do the nasty before he was trapped.”

 

“Is that what you wanted to talk about?” Derek asked.

 

“Oh no, I’ll ask Stiles when he gets back,” she said. They left the coffee shop, Lydia leading them toward a park in the middle of town. She was dressed more casually than Derek was used to, hair up in a ponytail, almost no makeup on, and a breezy sundress that swished around her as she walked.

 

“You sound confident about that,” Derek said.

 

“Aren’t you?”

 

“I don’t know if I’m confident, but I am endlessly hopeful,” he said. Gale suddenly started clicking next to his ear, making him tense and then pet her head.

 

“It seems Gale doesn’t agree with you,” Lydia said as they reached a bench and sat down.

 

“Why did you want to have coffee?” Derek asked.

 

“I think it’s time we talked about Stiles,” she said sipping her own drink. It was something that smelt strong and strangely sweet, probably pumped full of vanilla syrup. He focused on it, instead of Lydia for a few moments, before she tutted at him.

 

“What?”

 

“This isn’t only about you, you know. I… I need someone who understands,” she explained slowly. She wasn’t looking at him, instead staring out at the park. Her voice was thick and her body was tense like it was painful for her to say anything at all. She let out a long slow breath and leant forward a little, keeping her eyes on something in the distance. “Jackson tries and Allison says she understands, but they don’t. They don’t have the connection to Stiles that I have and they haven’t lost the friendship I have. I have ignored the loss, I’ve fought against the negativity of some pack members, and I’ve made sure that Stiles is still part of our lives. But, I need to mourn, you need to mourn.

No one is looking for you to move on from him, even if he doesn’t come back, love him until you die if you want, but you need to live until then. You are letting yourself die, Derek. You are blocking out the pack and sinking into a depression that you’re ignoring. The pack is worried, you sisters are silently terrified. You must know that.” Derek stared at Lydia, struggling to find any words at all to say to her. She finally turned to look at him, eyes wet with tears, and her face looked soft and scared like he’d never seen before.

 

“I don’t want to,” he said and she looked surprised. “Mourning him, mourning his loss, feels like giving up on him.”

 

“It isn’t giving up on him, it’s letting go of the painful feelings that his absence has caused us,” Lydia said. Derek looked away from her, found a tree in the park, and stared at that instead. “Have you spoken with Gale about it?” Lydia asked after a minute.

 

“What? She’s a polecat,” he said.

 

“And?” she asked

 

“They aren’t known for speaking,” Derek answered. Lydia made a disgruntled noise, rolled her eyes, and then shook her head.

 

“You’re a 6’ tall man who turned into a giant wolf sometimes, I scream when someone is going to die. We both have soulmates who can communicate with us, by writing on their own skin. Why, on earth, would a talking polecat seem strange?” she asked.

 

“When you put it like that,” he answered. “No, I haven’t talked to her about it, she just clicks at me. I don’t even know if she’s met, Stiles.” Gale started clicking again, rattling out sounds as she wiggled unsafely on his shoulders. He glanced over at her, fairly sure that she was disagreeing with him.

 

“I guess we’ll have to figure out what she’s saying,” Lydia said and took another sip of her drink. Derek watched as Gale hurried down his arm and onto Lydia’s lap.

 

“Would Deaton know?” he asked.

 

“He might, we can ask him. I’m also going to your mother for numbers of other more… forthcoming emissaries. You’d think, after almost getting the pack killed, he’d be more helpful than he is,” she said casually.

 

“Old habits,” Derek said.

 

“It will be a relief when Stiles returns and Deaton can retire,” she said and watched Derek for his reaction. “I’m going to keep mentioning him when you’re around. Until everyone is willing to do it.” Derek looked at her and then nodded his head.

 

“Okay,” he answered.

 

“Good, now, do you have time to go to the compound? Deaton should be there and I know your mother is,” Lydia said getting to her feet, Gale now on her shoulders. “You can drive me and I’ll come get my car later.”

 

“Sure,” he answered and they started back to the coffee shop. Gale seemed to like Lydia, probably because she knew who she was. Gale only seemed to tolerate Derek, but stayed with him anyway which maybe he should have taken as a sign of Stiles’ influence. Lydia was texting now, coffee in one and the other one tapping frantically on her phone screen. Maybe she was warning the pack about her plan, or maybe she was just warning his mother of their arrival. She got into the passenger seat of his car, still texting, and they drove in silence to the compound.

 

There was a sizable library of paranormal and supernatural books kept at the compound. Derek hadn’t had too many uses for it, but he knew that Stiles and Lydia had both frequented it. It wasn’t in the main house because there hadn’t been space, so they added it to Peter’s house. Peter liked to say it was because he used it the most, but Derek knew it was really just because he had the most extra space. They pulled up in front of Peter’s house, parking in the driveway, and going to the door. Corrine was the one who answered, smiling at them, and letting them in. “Peter’s at work,” she said as she led them through into the library.

 

“That’s probably for the best,” Lydia said. “It’s impossible to get anything done while he’s around.” Corrine laughed and nodded her head.

 

“It definitely is.” Derek made a face at that, feeling like it was something that he didn’t want to hear. Deaton was already there, pulling books from different shelves, a stack of them already set on the table in them middle of the room. He barely looked at the books he was pulling, and Derek wondered if he had done this before. If he had already read these books before, and now just need to remember which book the information they wanted was in. Deaton had become more forthcoming since Stiles was trapped. He spoke about issues in front of the whole pack, awkward and uncomfortable looking, but he still did it. Derek didn’t really blame Deaton for what had happened, even though he knew some of the pack members did. They were angry that he told the pack that Talbot had been trustworthy after hearing that Stiles had been worried.

 

The pack, while better, was still strained with each other. Talia was questioned more often, things took longer to come together, and many members still came to Derek for advice instead of Talia. He had originally felt guilty about the shift, Laura was meant to take over after their mum. She was the best at it, level headed and calm during training exercises, but—she told him one night—she had never wanted to be the alpha. “Besides,” she had said. “You’re perfect in a real crisis; we don’t know how I’d be. And, I’ll always be here to help if you need it.” Derek had taken her place, stepped in to learn the things he needed to, and Laura had more free time for her kids.

 

Deaton didn’t seem bothered by the distrust he had earned, but Derek wasn’t sure if that was true or if his hurt was just well hidden. He nodded at Derek and Lydia when he noticed them, and then pulled two more books. “Making an animal speak isn’t a difficult task,” Deaton said. “But, making them say what they really mean is a different matter.” Gale seemed irritated now, clicking loudly and running around in circles on the table top. Derek watched her, wondering what that kind of frustration must feel like, to be unable to communicate. Gale went to the nearest book, planted her head firmly against the spine, and then pushed it off the side of the table. After turning and staring at Deaton for a moment, she went to the next book and did the same thing. Deaton frowned at her, pulled his phone out, and sent off a text message. He picked the books back up and thumped them down onto the table. Gale did it again, rushing from book to book, knocking them to the floor over and over again. She finally turned around and stared at Derek, looking more furious than he thought an animal should. Scott arrived a few minutes later, a cage in hand, looking confused.

 

“Something wrong with her?” he asked.

 

“She’s being a pest,” Deaton said sternly, “and we have work to get done.”

 

“She doesn’t need to go in a cage,” Derek said and reached out for her. She scampered into his outstretched hand, settled on his shoulder, and then hissed in his ear. “I don’t think.”

 

“Are you busy, Scott?” Lydia asked.

 

“Nah, nothing to do today,” he answered.

 

“Why don’t you stay and help, maybe Gale will listen to you,” she said and offered him on of the books.

 

“What are you looking for?” Scott asked looking down at the book. The words Greek Mythology writing in large red letters on the black cover.

 

“A spell to make Gale speak,” Deaton answered. He was still watching Gale, eyeing her like suspiciously, like he expected her to jump at him. Scott nodded and took a seat at the table, the cage left by the door. Deaton and Lydia both found spells to make animals speak, both of which seemed simple enough but needed to be done on specific nights. Derek found one that would turn her human, but when he mentioned it, Gale bit his ear and hissed. Scott flipped slowly through the book he was given, frowning at different things, as he read. Deaton hadn’t given Scott a book with spells in it, just book after book on mythology, like he didn’t trust him enough to find the information they needed.

 

“I have never done a spell like this,” Deaton said after he a Lydia found the one they felt was the best choice. “But, it doesn’t require much skill, just time.”

 

“If it doesn’t work, we can find someone else to try it,” Lydia said. Scott grabbed the now empty coffee cups and went to throw them out, before collecting the cage he had brought. Derek took the books and put them back on the shelves, letting Lydia and Deaton worry about the details. While anyone had the ability to use magic, some people were just naturally better at it. Derek was not one of those people, he stumbled over the words and found the smells of most plants and ingredients too overpowering. He had no problem being part of a spell, helping someone else use their own energy, but he wasn’t good at it. He hoped that that was all that would be required of him this time. Deaton took the book with the decided spell and headed out of the house. Derek paused just long enough to thank Corrin and say goodbye.

 

Lydia and Deaton were in front of the house, talking to each other, each sounding a little irritated. “I don’t see why I can’t take the book,” Lydia said hands on her hips.

 

“I will take it and gather the materials needed,” Deaton said.

 

“You mean the candles, chalk, and salt?” she asked. “I can write it down if you need.”

 

“Ms Martin,” Deaton said sounding suddenly very tired.

 

“I want to check it against the books I have,” she said. “I don’t want to hurt Gale because we were reckless. I’d also like to see if I can find easier spells to use, having the book would be a helpful reference for me.”

 

“Why don’t you just, like, shift and talk to her? She’d probably like that better anyway, plus no need to wait for the right time of day,” Scott said as he set the cage in the back of his car. Deaton and Lydia turned sharply to look at him.

 

“What?” Deaton asked sharply. Scott suddenly looked startled and looked at Derek with wide eyes, like he was terrified he had done something wrong. He looked back at the other two and took a deep breath.

 

“I do it all the time at the vet, just to make sure no one is stuck in a body they shouldn’t be in,” he said. His cheeks tinted pink as he spoke, clearly embarrassed to be sharing. “Stiles told me you could do it, after reading about a man stuck in a cat’s body for a year. I figured it was better to be careful, plus what if a witch or something was holding someone hostage and I was just treating them like an animal? It would be so shitty, but she’s the only one who’s ever talked to me, which is probably a good sign.”

 

“And you didn’t feel like mention this before, because…?” Lydia asked.

 

“I didn’t know it was important?” he asked, still looking embarrassed. Deaton was saying something to Scott now, but Derek tuned it out. He took Gale from his shoulder and set her down on the porch in front of Peter’s house, after a minute of undressing, he shifted into his beta form and then into a full wolf. He dropped down onto all fours, shaking out his coat and then looking at the polecat.

 

“Finally!” she shouted. “You’re so dense! What kind of dumb wolf are you? I’ve been here for ages! No one smart enough to shift! Your mate says you’re smart, but no! It’s the vet who knows! The vet!”

 

“Nice to meet you,” Derek said after a minute.

 

“Oh, don’t you pull that!” she snapped. “You—you great beast! I’ve been living in a pile of t-shirts, trying to keep from getting swatted by your silly human brother!”

 

“Are you trapped in that form?” Derek asked.

 

“While my master is away,” she snapped. “I said this was dumb! Sending me, stuck as an animal! But they couldn’t open a portal big enough for a human. So they send me! I’ve been humiliated! Treated like a house pet!”

 

“I’m sorry,” Derek said making her stumble to a stop.

 

“Well, let’s just get this finished, I want to go home,” she said.

 

“You won’t be staying here?”

 

“I’ll be happier with my partner in purgatory,” she answered.

 

“Well then how can I help you get back?” he asked. She stared at him then and finally seemed to settle. She sat down and watched him for a minute like she was wondering if he was going to bite her.

 

“We need to open a portal,” she answered. “But, I don’t know how to do it. I was given a letter, to tell you who I was and what to do, but… it burnt away as I passed through the portal. But, I know that they can’t open the portal alone, they need someone in your world to help.” Derek huffed, realising then that the others were all looking at him. He turned his head up toward them, feeling strange now and uncomfortable where he was. He turned back to Gale, who had moved closer to him, climbing down a few steps.

 

“I guess we’ll start looking again,” he said slowly. “I’ll have to shift back, but I’ll start shifting more often. It must have been frustrating to been unable to speak to anyone.”

 

“Thank you,” she said. “I’d appreciate that and… thank you, for letting me stay with you even without knowing who I was.”

 

“You clearly wanted to be around,” he said.

 

“Still, it is very kind; you could have left me in a cage. Stiles said that about you, that you’re kind,” she said. Derek’s heart slammed against his ribs, hearing her say Stiles name was different. It was confirmation of an unasked question, one that he had been too scared to voice. “He misses you,” she added, “though you’ve been without him much longer, then he’s been without you.”

 

“Times different, right?” Derek asked and she nodded her head.

 

“How long has he been gone?”

 

“Two years,” Derek answered.

 

“It’s only been a few months for him,” she said. “Barely any time at all.”

 

“I don’t know if he notices the passage of time, even when he’s here,” Derek said, feeling strangely fond about it.

 

“Of course not!” she said sharply. “Poor boy, the energy of a god trapped inside a tiny human body. Lucky he didn’t explode. His parents must have had the patience of saints.”

 

“I’ll let his dad know,” Derek said. “I’m going to turn back now, okay?” She seemed to think about this for a second before she nodded her head.

 

“You promise you’ll shift back and speak to me sometimes?” she asked.

 

“I promise,” he answered.

 

“Thank you,” she said again sounding more sincere than Derek thought was possible. He nodded his head and shifted out of his wolf form. He was reaching for his pants when he heard Emily’s voice behind him.

 

“Gross! Derek, I can see your butt! Daddy Derek is walking around naked!” she called.

 

“Such is the way of the wolf,” Peter said from wherever he was. Derek pulled back on his pants and then tugged his shirt on as well.

 

“Why are you naked in our yard?” Emily asked.

 

“Talking to my friend,” he said and pointed at Gale.

 

“Oh my god she’s so cute!” Emily said. “Can I pet her?” Derek looked down at Gale, who seemed to think about it for a minute and then nodded at him.

 

“Okay, but you need to be really careful. She’s magic,” he said. Emily nodded her understanding and then carefully went to Gale.

 

“What’s going on here?” Peter asked stepping into the middle of the group.

 

“Research,” Lydia answered but ignored him in favour of Derek. “What did she say?”

 

 “That Stiles can’t open a portal without help from our world,” he said. “Do you know how to open a portal to Purgatory?” Lydia seemed to shrink in on herself, and Deaton took a step away from them.

 

“That’s… not an easy task,” Lydia said.

 

“I guessed it wouldn’t be if gods couldn’t do it alone,” Derek said. Lydia turned to look at Deaton, who seemed to have found something more interesting to look at, in the form of the book he was holding. It took a few minutes but he finally looked up at them.

 

“It can’t be done,” he said. “There are consequences for reaching out to the land of the dead.”

 

“Then it obviously can be done,” Scott snapped. “If it couldn’t be done, you wouldn’t need consequences.”

 

“It’s unsafe and stupid,” Deaton said. “You have to tear a hole, in reality, to reach into another. The spell caster could end up dead.”

 

“Then I’ll do it,” Derek said even though almost anyone would be a better choice for it. “If it works then we get Stiles back if it doesn’t work… I end up dead and get Stiles back.”

 

“Derek,” Peter said softly and then opened his mouth like he wanted to say something else, but nothing came out. Instead, he slowly closed his mouth and looked concerned. Derek could feel the pity from the others around him, like a physical thing seeping out of them.

 

“Stiles would be mad at you,” Emily said from behind him, so he turned to look at her. She was sitting on the steps with Gale in her lap, running her fingers carefully along the polecats head. She looked up at him after a second and then shrugged. “He would say that that’s stupid and you’re stupid.” Derek felt a smile slide over his face, and he nodded at her.

 

“I bet he would,” Derek answered.

 

“So then, don’t die. Just get the spell right,” she said like it was the easiest thing in the world. In that moment, coming from a seven-year-olds mouth, it might really have been. So Derek nodded his head again.

 

“Okay, I’ll get it right.”

 

“Good,” she said and smiled at him, before looking back down at Gale. Derek turned back to the others, feeling confident in the moment.

 

“Well, let’s go back inside and see what we can find. Impossible or not,” Derek said. Peter moved past him and up the stairs, where he opened the front door and gestured inside.

 

“Be my guest,” he said. Deaton was the only one, who didn’t join them in their search, but Peter took his place, and Corrin came to help as well. Emily played with Gale, who seemed to enjoy the young wolf’s energy, and by the end of the night, there were two stacks of books that Derek and Lydia agreed to split and read.

 

“We will get it right,” Lydia said softly.

 

“I’ve already told you, either way; it’s a success for me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I seriously need a better name for this AU guys. I feel like the soulmates thing, is super unimportant.


	4. Chapter 4

The darkness around him seemed fleeting this time, unimportant and unconcerning. He swung a bag up onto his shoulders, walking from the darkness over the bowels of the ship, and climbing to the deck. There were people milling around him, unloading crates and people. He was one of those people; he took himself off the ship, and down to the waiting crowd. His limbs felt tired and he knew he’d been at sea for a very long time. He searched the crowd, looking for someone until his eyes landed on a young Native American woman. As soon as he saw her, his heart felt like it was going to burst. He rushed through the mess of people and lifted her up into his arms. She let out a peal of laughter that made the people around them stare.

 

“Put me down,” she said her hands pressing into his shoulders.

 

“I’ll never have to put you done again, Dezba,” he said, but carefully righted her. He pulled her close to him, and kissed her hard and long, not caring that people around them were mumbling about it.

 

“Let’s go home,” she said softly taking his hand and leading him away from the dock. There was a horse-drawn carriage nearby that he threw his bag into the back of. There were bags of supplies in the back of the carriage as well; flour, potatoes, a small amount of sugar, and some fabric. He climbed onto the front of the carriage, the woman climbing up next to him, and dusting off her dress when she was seated. It was a long trip back to their farm, with a stop in the middle of the journey for sleep, before finding their way home. He could hear children as they approached the large farmhouse, they were racing out of the front door, shouting and running to meet them.

 

He stopped the carriage, jumped to the ground and scooped up the first child that reached him. The girl shrieked with delight, like her mother had the day before, as he spun her around in a circle. He did the same with the two boys that reached him next. He could feel the joy in his body, pulsing through him like a magic. He could feel a wolf there too, close to the surface and howling with delight at the feeling of pack and home. There was a strange skip to the world around him, and suddenly he was stretched out on a bed. Dezba was brushing her hair, dressed in an old-fashioned nightdress, and humming. He was watching her, feeling comfortable and content and all the things he had missed. He was grinned at her, trying to catch her eye in the mirror, but she was ignoring him. A smile played on her lips, a playful spark in her eyes that made his heart race.

 

Then, there was screaming. In a second he had thrown the covers back, tore off his clothing, and shifted. He was a towering beast and thundered through the home looking for the cause of the screaming. He could hear his children, screaming for him, begging for him to come to them. Dezba was only a step behind him, clutching her nightdress around her body, but looking furious. There were men in the house, standing at the top of the staircase, staring at him. He rushed at them, claws and teeth out. They ran from him, down the stairs and out the front door. He followed them onto the lawn, howling his furry after them. There was another man on the lawn, that the others joined, one that he recognised. “We’re not here for you brother!” the man shouted. The feeling of pack and betrayal thumped through his limbs. There was another howl now, this one disjointed and horrifying. A noise that he had never heard before, but knew exactly what had caused it. He turned and ran back into the house, making it inside, as a bullet pierced his side.

 

He found her in the kitchen; body shifted into her other form, the one she didn’t like to take because of the way its evil seeped into her mind. Her bones looked broken and disjointed under her dark peeling flesh. The children were in the corner of the room, looking more terrified of their mother, then the man she had pinned to the floor. Her mouth was closed around his neck, tearing flesh from his body, and then there was another gunshot. This one didn’t hit him, it wasn’t meant for him, it was for her. The bullet tore through her, spilling black blood from her stomach onto the now dead man. Then the world tilted sideways, yanking him back and away from the scene.

 

The huge wolf howled, turning on the men behind him, and torn them apart. There was more screaming, the children curled in on themselves and sobbed. Whatever they shot his wife with killed her, leaving a small frail looking body on the ground. It left the wolf alone with his three children, in a house that stunk of blood and hate. They buried their mother in the backyard, under the branches of a small tree. The youngest child set a grave marker on top of the pile of dirt, kissing the stone before she hurried back to her father’s side. Dezba Hale was carved into the stone that was too large for just her name. The wolf stood over his wife’s grave, trailing his fingers over something on his arm. He howled mournfully into the sky and suddenly there was only pain.

 

An overwhelming feeling of loss washed over him, and as the image in front of him faded, he found himself alone in the darkness again. The pain of loss gripped him, dug its claws into his chest, and tore at him. His body started burning, starting from his forehead and trailing down over his limbs. Each spot that anyone had ever written on him, burned like someone was trying to snuff out a cigarette lighter against his skin. He could feel the words forming and vanishing, tearing at his skin, and making him bleed. The words changed, from nonsense and loving messages to a different style of writing. Someone else’s writing curled around his arms. He screamed, unable to bring himself to shift and try to heal the pain.

 

The spider web appeared in front of him again, stretching through the darkness like the lines of a map. He crashed down, into the middle of the stretching lines, the pain easing in his chest and seeping away. He gasped for air, breathing in the uncomfortably warm air around him. There was someone standing in front of him now, wrapped in robes that hid their face from him. They stepped forward, feet shuffling along the ground, and creeping toward him. “Choices,” they whispered. “Your choices.” They extended a skeleton hand toward him, skin clinging to the bones like they’d never eaten.

 

“Who are you?” he managed to ask but his voice came out muffled.

 

“Turning points. All of them,” another voice said, suddenly there was a hand on his shoulder. He turned, looking up at another person draped in the same white robes.

 

“Branching paths,” yet another voice said. Another hand came down on his other shoulder, fingers digging in painfully. He tried to move but he couldn’t as the other two held him in place. The person in from of him didn’t touch him, but they were moving toward him. He could hear something being pulled and dragged as they went. The figure stopped in front of him, leaning forward, a long sharp needle clutched in their hand. He was suddenly heaved to his feet, lifted like he was weightless, and balanced upright with a practised ease. The figure in front of him thrust the needle forward; it pierced his chest, sharp and quick, making him gasp in a breath of air. He could feel movement behind him now, a hand in the centre of his back. He looked down and watched as the needle disappeared through him, being forced through his chest and out of his back. The person behind him was tugging at it now, and Derek could see thread disappearing through him.

 

“Why?” he choked out lifting his eyes to meet the gaze of the figure in front of him. He met their eyes, glinting through the darkness of the hood over their face.

 

“You will.”

 

“Be visited.”

 

“By a friend.” They took turns speaking, their voices all sounding like the same person. The thread pulled tight through his chest, and Derek screamed into the darkness.

 

“Derek!” a voice shouted shattering the world around him. Derek woke with a jolt, his heart racing in his chest. There was no comfort when he woke this time; it was still the middle of the night and he realised he wasn’t in his room. For a second he panicked, but then he realised he was in the preserve. He was still in his pyjamas, a pair of sweat pants and nothing else. He looked around, trying to find where he had ended up. There was nothing around him, so he stumbled forward. It took a few minutes for him to find a landmark, a large spirally tree, that climbed into the sky over the town's original cemetery. It was located on the other side of the preserve, almost the exact opposite of the compound. No one in town used it anymore, sometimes people came to visit the dead there, but no one used it except the Hale’s. When his mother died, she would end up here and they’d move his father to join her.

 

His aunt had been the last Hale buried here, and Derek hadn’t been here since her funeral, but now he stumbled through the front gate. The tree was in the centre of the cemetery, and Derek knew there was a grave pressed into the side of the bark. He made his way to the tree, circling it until he found the grave. It was old and made of stone, the name ‘Dezba Hale’ cut into it. He dropped to his knees and reached out for it, brushing dirt and leaves from it. Underneath her name, filling the space that had originally been empty was the name ‘Derek Hale’. Derek felt his chest tighten, but he knew who that man was. He was the alpha that had staked their claim to this land; he was the alpha who made the Hale pack what it was now. Derek was named for him.

 

He took a deep breath, letting the cool night air fill his lungs, and try to calm his nerves. This dream hung in his mind. It didn’t fade like the others had, and the more he thought about it, the more the others dreams came back to him. There were names and feelings that filled his mind and spread through his chest. He could hear screaming voices, and joyful laughter, like they were memories of his own. When he closed his eyes he could see pictures of places he had never been, home and people he didn’t really know.

 

“Hello,” a woman called from behind him. He spun around, scrambling to his feet again. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you.”  

 

“Who are you?” he snapped, lowering her centre of balance and barring his teeth. He suddenly felt cornered and terrified but she didn’t seem to mind.

 

“A friend,” she answered. She didn’t move toward him, just smiled softly and looked calm. He suddenly heard the other voice from his dream. _“You will be visited by a friend.”_ They had said.

 

“Who?” he asked again.

 

“My name is Persephone,” she answered.

 

“The god?” he asked.

 

“The god,” she answered.

 

“I’m not really interested in dealing with any of Apollo’s siblings,” he said. She laughed again, soft and musically, and shook her head.

 

“My brother and I have very little in common,” she said.

 

“That doesn’t change anything,” he answered.

 

“You don’t need to trust me, but I hope you can trust your mates trust in me,” she said. Derek tenses even more, if that was possible. She took a small step forward and produced a credit card from her bag. “He didn’t have much on him, except for his wallet and his clothing. His name is one this, he hoped it might be enough to convince you, he also hoped you didn’t think I beat him up and took it.” She held the card out to him, and let Derek take it from her. He held it carefully, reading the name embossed on the front of it. He ran his thumb over the name a few times, feeling comforted that it was there. She went back into her bag and pulled out the over shirt Derek remembered Stiles had been wearing. His mouth went dry, and his heart hammered in his chest.

 

“Oh,” he managed to say. She held it out to him too, this time more carefully, and Derek snatched it from her. He could smell Stiles on it like he had been just wearing it. The smell flooded his senses; there was no fear in the smell, no panic or anything, just Stiles. He pulled it against his chest and looked up at her. “I believe you,” he said.

 

“I’ve also brought you this,” she said and held out a knife that looked like it was made of a pink glass.

 

“What’s it for?” he asked.

 

“Opening the portal,” she answered.

 

“What?”

 

“He says he sent you a letter, but it couldn’t pass through the portal. I volunteered to come speak with you,” she said.

 

“Why?”

 

“Hecate is my friend,” she answered. “She always has been. Stiles is lovely as well, I hope to continue our friendship.”

 

“How did you come here?” he asked.

 

“I travel between the worlds often, it’s part of my job,” she answered. “But, I cannot bring another with me.” Derek stared at her, standing in the middle of the graveyard, looking out of place but right at home.

 

“What are you here to talk about?” he asked.

 

“Whatever questions you have, but I can only stay until the first light of morning,” she said.

 

“You’re just going to tell me?” he asked.

 

“I’ll tell you what I can if I can’t tell you… then I’ll tell you I can’t,” she said. She was still holding the dagger in front of herself, offering it to him; he finally reached out and took it from her. It felt heavy but comfortable in his hand.

 

“Would you… come back to my apartment and talk there?” he asked.

 

“If you’re comfortable with me coming into your home,” she answered. Derek nodded and without saying anything else, he led her through the trees and back to his apartment. It was strange, he thought, having a goddess from legend sitting at your table, but everything in his life was strange. He decided that it wasn’t worth worrying about this time, and ignored the strange feeling. He left Persephone sitting at the table alone for a minute, when he went to put on a shirt, and leave Stiles things in his room. Gale was sitting on his bed when he opened the door, head tilted to the side.

 

“I found a god if you’re interested,” he said. She hopped off the side of the bed, down onto a box he had set next to the bed to make it easier for her, and then onto the floor and out of the room. He folded Stiles shirt and set it on his side table, and then went back out into the kitchen. Gale was on the table now, clicking softly and Persephone who seemed to understand her.

 

“Would you like something to drink?” he asked. “Tea, coffee, water?”

 

“Tea would be lovely,” she said. He filled the kettle and switched it on, before digging out a box of tea that _Eilís had left here, and dumped the loose leaves into an infuser. He got himself a glass of water and refilled the bowl of water he had for Gale. The whistling of the kettle woke Sam up, Derek could hear him moving around, probably confused. He poured the water into the mug for_ Persephone, and then took it to her.

 

“Do you want anything to add to it?” he asked.

               

“No, this is perfect,” she said and set the mug in front of her.

 

“My brother is getting up,” he said. “He’ll probably come see what’s going on.”

 

“You don’t care?” she asked seemingly amused by it.

 

“No,” Derek answered as Sam’s door opened. Sam was down the stairs from the top floor a minute later, he looked confused and sleep-rumpled.

 

“Why are you up so late?” he asked and then noticed Persephone at the table. He stood up straighter when he saw her, the sleep confusion vanishing from his face. “Hi,” he said.

 

“Hello,” she answered.

 

“What’s… what’s going on?” he asked.

 

“I’ll explain later, okay?” Derek said. “Just go back to bed or come sit down.”

               

“Okay… I’m going back to bed, I have work in a few hours,” he said but it took him almost a full minute to actually move. He went up the stairs slowly, glancing back at them a few times, before he was back in his room with the door closed. Derek was fairly confident that Sam wasn’t going to manage to get back to sleep, but he couldn’t worry about that. Instead, he turned back to Persephone, who was sipping her tea and looking around the room.

 

“This tea is wonderful,” she said when she looked back at him. “Tea is always better when given.”

 

“How is Stiles?” he asked awkwardly.

 

“He’s alright, anxious,” she answered.

               

“That’s pretty much how he always was,” Derek said.

 

“He wants to be home,” she said. “He misses his pack terribly.”  

 

“What’s he doing while he’s there?”

 

“Training, giving favours, and learning about what he is,” she answered.

 

“Giving favours?” he asked.

 

“Stiles is in need of certain items to open the portal, many gods are involved, it’s a system that’s been put in place to keep the gods in check. They need each other’s permission to move through the worlds,” she answered.

 

“What did he give you, for your help?” he asked.

 

“Nothing, not everyone will ask for things in return. Some will want something as payment. Others are happy to help, just for something to do with their time.”

 

“How do I help him?”

 

“You will need to summon the Moirai,” she said.

 

“What?”

 

“The Fates, it seems they can create a physical representation of your soulmate bond,” she said. “A thing that Stiles can follow home.”

 

“How do I do that?” he asked.

 

“There is a spell in one of the books your current emissary has, Stiles, told me it’s kept in a large trunk in Laura’s basement. The book doesn’t have a name, but it’s covered with ruins,” she said and then paused like she was thinking carefully. “He also said it will feel oddly warm when you hold it like it’s been left out in the sun. The spell will be there for you, it’s written by hand.”

 

“And, this will get him back?” he asked.

 

“I believe it’s the simplest way,” she said.

               

“But there are others? If this doesn’t work?”

 

“Yes, there are others,” she agreed.

 

“Thank you,” he said softly. She tilted her head as she looked at him like she was unsure why he had said it to her.

 

“Whatever for?” she asked when he didn’t say anything else.

 

“For helping and not wanted anything for it,” he answered.

 

“Well, you’re welcome,” she said. She turned her head suddenly, looking toward the large windows in the living room. There was the smallest hint of sunlight now, peeking over the edge of the horizon. “I have to go now; do you want me to tell your mate anything?” she asked as she turned her attention back to him. Derek hesitated for a second, trying to find what he wanted to say as she got to her feet.

 

“Tell him we’ll get him home soon,” Derek finally said, feeling stupid and embarrassed.

 

“Very well,” she said and headed to the front door. She stopped as she reached for the door, and turned back to him. He had followed her, wanting to lock the door behind her. “The Moirai may ask for payment from you, Stiles will have already paid them, but they may still ask. It is your choice if you give them something else.”

 

“My choice?” he asked slowly, his voice trailing away as he spoke, and then he startled. “Wait for a second, just stay here a second longer,” he said and turned around. He went back into the apartment, grabbed the box of tea he had used, and brought it back to Persephone.

 

“What’s this?” she asked.

 

“Payment?” he said uncertainly and then shook his head. “No, it’s a gift,” he said. She took the tea from him and smiled warmly.

 

“Thank you,” she said.

 

“You’re welcome,” he answered. He pulled the door open for her, as she stowed the tea in her bag. “Have a safe journey,” he said as she stepped passed him.

 

“You as well, Derek Hale,” she answered and then she was gone like she had never been there at all. Leaving behind only a slightly sweet smell in the air that made Derek think of spring and feel really hopeful. Derek closed and locked the front door, his body suddenly feeling sleep heavy. He turned to look over at Gale, where she was still sitting on the table watching him. He wanted to go to sleep, but he also wanted to drive to Laura’s house and start digging through her basement. Instead, he made breakfast and waited for Sam to come back downstairs. He had never gone back to sleep, just sat and waited for the woman to leave.

 

“Explanation?” he asked as he started making coffee.

 

“That was Persephone,” he said, flipping one of the pancakes in the pan. Sam stopped and looked at him, but after a minute he shrugged and turned back around.

 

“Okay,” he said. “I guess I figured more gods would show up at some point. If Stiles is one and all.”

 

“She told me where to find a spell, to help get Stiles home,” Derek said.  

 

“That’s great,” Sam said sounding honestly excited. “That’s really exciting.”

 

“It is,” Derek said and smiled at his brother. Derek did feel the excitement, but more than that, he was afraid. He was sure that something was going to go wrong, he could feel it in his chest, but he didn’t know what it would be. So, instead, he just smiled and let his brother talk to him. Derek barely spoke until Sam left for work, and then he sat at the table until it was after 9 AM. He sent Laura a text message that said he was coming over, waited until she answered and then left. Gale didn’t come with him this time, choosing instead to curl into a ball in her t-shirt bed and sleep instead.

 

Laura’s house was one of the closest ones to the main house, originally belonging to their great aunt and uncle. She and her mate had remodelled the home, updating it to fit their tastes, and making it more modern. He ran to her house that morning, instead of driving, waiting to try and make the anxious feeling leave his limbs. Laura was waiting outside for him, standing with her arms crossed over her chest, looking confused but not unhappy to see him. “Are you okay?” she asked.

 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said. “I was told there was a book in your basement that has a spell in it, that will help get Stiles home.”

 

“That’s amazingly specific, who told you about it?”

 

“Persephone,” Derek answered. Laura frowned at him, rolled her eyes, and went into the house.

 

“Funny man,” she said but Derek just shrugged at her. He followed her inside, taking off his shoes at the front door, and heading to the basement.

 

“I’m not being funny,” he said. Laura went with him, turning on lights as they went. He explained what had happened that morning, from waking up in the woods to giving Persephone tea. He tried to keep from sounding excited about the possibility of Stiles return. Laura didn’t seem excited at all, just a little concerned. It took them just under an hour to find the book, tucked in a trunk in the storage room.

 

“I didn’t even know I had this,” she said.

 

“Stiles did,” Derek said.

 

“Mum must have gotten him to store it here.”

      

“I guess so,” he mumbled. He took the book in his hands; it was warm to the touch like someone else had just been holding it. He opened it carefully, unsure what was going to be inside. There was a lot less in the book than Derek expected, it seemed more like a journal than a spell book. But, one the last page that had been used, there was a spell titled ‘Changing Fate’. “It’s really here,” he said softly. Laura leant over him, looking at the page upside down, and reading the ingredients.

 

“Holy shit,” Laura mumbled and tugged the book from Derek. “Holy shit, that’s a lot of ingredients.”

 

“I don’t think it will be hard to gather them,” Derek said. “I can Google when the next eclipse is.”

 

“The spell says you have to eat almost nothing and lock yourself away for a week? Avoid the sun and other people. What kind of magic wants you alone? Are you sure this is real?”

 

“Stiles said it was,” Derek said simply. He took the book back from Laura, scanning the page of the book and trying to figure out the best way to go through it all. The spell was strange, Derek agreed, but he knew it would work. He didn’t know how long until the next eclipse, but he could plan for that. Spending a week alone wouldn’t be hard for him, and eating less seemed like a small price for this to work. The rest of the spell was mostly centred on getting the right ingredients and combining them correctly.  

 

“Lydia told me you two were going to work on this,” Laura said suddenly, making Derek look up at her.

 

“On what?” Derek asked slowly.

 

“Your… obsession,” she said.

 

“My obsession?” he asked.

 

“With Stiles,” Laura said and Derek felt his mouth fall open in shock. She seemed a little uncomfortable, but he could tell she had set her mind on whatever she was about to say. “She said you two were going to work on getting past the sadness. That was the plan.”

 

“I’m not going to mourn him,” Derek hissed. “I told Lydia that too.”

 

“Derek… You’ve been so miserable. This spell doesn’t even look real, it sounds like a crazy person rambling about nothing! Can’t you just...” she trailed off, waving her hand in front of her.

 

“Just what, Laura?” he snapped. She bit her lip and shook her head to clear it, Derek had a feeling that she really believed that she was helping him with this.

 

“Just… just forgive yourself,” Laura said softly. “You did everything you could have. You saved all those people, Derek, and here you are hating yourself for it.”

 

“I don’t…”

 

“You do,” she snapped. “For the last two years, you’ve looked like you’d rather be dead! You look worse than—than after everything with Kate. Can’t you just let yourself feel better? Let yourself move on a little?”

 

“No,” Derek said through gritted teeth. Laura took a step toward him and opened her mouth to speak, but he pushed on. “I can’t move on because it’s the only thing holding me together.”

 

“What?” she asked slowly. He could see the concern flash back to her face; overtaking the stubborn confidence she had only a second before.

 

“I… I’ve already lost a soulmate, Laura. I know I never talked about it, but it hurt,” Derek said. He wouldn’t look at her now, keeping his hands clamped around the book, staring at a bit of fluff on the basement carpet as he spoke. He kept his voice low and soft, even though they were the only two in the house. The pack knew what had happened, of course, they did, but his parents helped him hide the worst parts of it. They came up with convenient lies to lessen Derek’s involvement with Kate, to lessen the way Derek was reacting to it all. Laura softened next to him, reaching out to touch him, but he knocked her hand away before she could. He shook his head and pressed on. “She was connected to me, she was part of me, and she _was_ my soulmate. Even if the whole thing was faked and she forced it on me, I loved her and my body accepted her as my soulmate.

 

I’ve said that I noticed something wrong when I was with her but that’s a lie. I mean, at some point I did, obviously, but it was an accident that I even looked for something wrong. Nothing felt sour or wrong, she smelt like too much perfume and sometimes she smelt like something I didn’t know. It was gunpowder, but I didn’t know that then. I loved her because that’s what you’re meant to do with your soulmate, even if it doesn’t work out forever. You love them and you try until you fix it or it falls apart. I didn’t know anything was going to fall apart. I had the connection with her, to me it was real, and I felt it when Deaton broke the spell. It was like she had died and the connection was torn from me. I vomited blood for a week afterwards, there were times I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t even think properly. They had to bring in a more experienced emissary because they were worried that it was going to kill me. It would have killed me without more help.

 

She—the emissary—said that my body had taken Kate as my real mate; it released extra endorphins and dopamine to make me fall in love. It ended and I ended up depressed, partly because that can happen when you lose a mate and partly because I was such an idiot. I let her do all those things to me… and I almost let you all die. But, the spell fucked up my body too, worse than just losing my soulmate did. I’m sure you remember that mum and dad took turns watching me in the soundproof room. I don’t know what they told you, but it was because I couldn’t be alone. I was too depressed, the spell made my wolf give up, and my body stopped healing. I was falling apart like I’d been poisoned. They had to break my bones to keep jump starting my healing, dad cried every time he had to do it. They had to do it constantly.

 

I felt guilty because everyone almost died, because mum and dad had to take care of me, and I felt like I deserved to have my bones broken. I wanted them to leave me alone to die, I attacked mum once, and I wanted to make her mad at me. I wanted her to hate me. I wanted everyone to hate me. Eventually, I stopped vomiting, the spell worked its way out of my system, and I was left with just the normal amount of heartbreak. Mum and dad let me out, let me back into the pack and you all welcomed me back with open arms. I tried to move on from it and I don’t know when, but I realised at some point that I needed to at least seem better. I needed to look like I was getting over it and moving on, even if it was just for mum and dad. I—I never talked about it after that, I let it slip away with time and new memories, but I never… I never stopped feeling the heartache. Just like mum hasn’t and Uncle Stephen hasn’t. It stayed in my chest like a weight, some days it was heavier than others, but it was still there. Then I met Stiles.

 

He slipped into my life like he had always been there like he had always been standing next to me, and suddenly the weight was lighter. It was still there, but it was easier to carry. Sometimes, when I was living with him, we would lie in his bed at night and talk to each other. I wanted to tell him about it, but we were in danger, we didn’t have time to deal with my emotional problems. But he knew there was something there, he never mentioned it, but he never pushed me for anything. He’d write me notes all the time, little things about how he missed me, about how boring things were when we weren’t together. Even when he was too busy researching and learning to remember to eat, he remembered me. He never pushed me for anything, never worried about getting an answer on his skin or on his phone. Until Stiles, I focused on hating myself, to anchor my wolf. I focused on the fact that I wasn’t good enough; I wasn’t strong enough to even lose control.

 

Stiles showed me that I was, that I was stronger and—and worth more than I thought I was. He… It’s not like I was suddenly fixed and put back together, I knew I had a lot of work to do, but suddenly I wanted to do it. I wanted to actually be better and get better. I wanted to be the man that Stiles seemed to see when he looked at me. I know you shouldn’t, you shouldn’t need another person to be better for, and that it’s better to just love yourself and move on. But, I fucking don’t and waiting until I do love myself to be with him would have been torture. Fuck, I don’t even know what I’m talking about anymore,” Derek explained. He had started to cry as he spoke, choking on panic and tears that he hadn’t planned on. He yanked one hand to his face, and desperately tried to scrub the tears away. Laura hadn’t moved she was just looking at him like she had no idea what to do. Derek thought that was fair and part of him wanted her to be disgusted by him. Something small and dark inside of him told him to push her away, yell at her, insult her, and force her to hate him. He crushed it and swallowed around the lump in his throat.

 

“It’s not wrong… it’s not wrong to have someone else be your reason, Derek,” Laura finally said taking on a tone that sounded too much like their mother.

 

“I know,” he answered. “That’s why—that’s why I can’t mourn him. If I mourn him I won’t make it. I’ll fall apart and we’re finally making progress. He’s managed to contact us; we are getting closer to him being home. I’m not mourning something that is within reach. There are some days that the way I feel about him, is all I have left.” He pulled the book against his chest, clinging to it like a lifeline as he drowned.

 

“Derek…”

 

“Please, Laura,” he said suddenly. He turned, letting one hand go from his chest, reaching out and grabbing her shoulder. She stared at him and he realised that she was crying too, but he didn’t know when she had started. “Please just drop it.”

 

“Okay,” she answered one of her hands coming up and resting against his arm. Her fingers felt too hot against his skin, but after a minute the feeling slipped away. He saw out of the corner of his eyes, that there were black veins snaking along Laura’s hand. He let her try and take the pain from him, but he knew that there was too much there. “I’ll drop it.”

 

“Thank you,” he managed and then she shifted in front of him. She tugged him into a hug, giving him only a second to move the book from his chest and out of the way. Then she held him so tightly that he thought he might stop breathing. He buried his face against her shoulder, tightening his arms around her the same way.

 

“When Stiles gets home,” she said after a minute, “we’re going to work on this properly. If you’re gonna be my alpha, you’re gonna be stable and happy, even if I have to beat the happiness into you.” Derek choked out a laugh and nodded his head.

 

“Okay,” he answered muffled by her shirt.

 

“Good,” she said and slowly let him go. She sniffed, to try and get rid of the last of her tears, and then pushed against his shoulder. “Let’s go find those fucking ingredients.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longest chapter yet.
> 
> Also later than I normally post, but I've been super busy with Etsy orders! I've barely had time to breath guys.
> 
> Also, I did end up renaming the series... I hope that doesn't mess anything up ^^;


	5. Chapter 5

Darkness settled around him, this time comfortable and welcomed a relief from the constant fear and terror he had been feeling. It made him feel calm like he could slip away and never wake up again. He felt a hand on his arm, fingers tightening to the point that it was almost painful, and then they loosened. He could hear something, someone speaking, but he couldn’t understand them, or the words being said. The fingers slide along his skin, tracing unseen lines up his arm and along his shoulder. There was something familiar about the way the fingers danced along his skin, twitching restlessly as they went. Then a hand settled against the side of his neck, he felt his body tense, ready to yank away and defend. The warmth from the hand seeped into his skin, ran through his veins like it belonged there. He took a sudden deep breath, gasping in a lungful of air that he didn’t notice he needed.

 

He opened his eyes and someone was above him, but his vision was blurry like he was looking through a frosted window. He reached up a hand, shaking and—to his surprise—old. Pale, aged spotted, semi-translucent flesh, seemed to hang from his bones. The person over him reached out, gripped his hands in theirs, and squeezed softly. “Who are you?” he asked, voice cracking as he spoke.

 

“Daringly,” the voice responded. It was soft, female, and made his chest tighten with panic. “You keep forgetting.” For a second he could see her, round-faced and kind eyes, but the woman’s voice belonged to someone else. She looked worried, sad, and scared of something.

 

“No,” he said tugging at his hand. She didn’t let go, instead tried to lace their fingers together.

 

“Please, calm down.”

 

“No! No!” he said and thrashed in the bed. Her face faded from view again, blurring away as he turned his head back and forth. She squeezed his hand, making him stop moving, and turn to look up again. His hand changed, became younger, and younger until it looked like it belonged to a teenager.

 

“Come on babe, relax,” she said. His vision cleared again and Kate came into view, eyes boring into him, and swallowing him whole. He wanted to cry out, to scream, to make her disappear, but there was nothing he could do. She was on top of him suddenly, hands on his neck now, tightening and choking him. The world swam away from in front of his eyes as the hands tightened. There was nothing he could do, everything hurt, his arms were restrained, and something was making him weaker. She was chanting something, gasping and moaning as she choked off his air. He remembered this, remembered the panic and the pain that was part of being with her.

 

“Got off of him!” another voice shouted. There was a flash of light in front of his eyes, and Kate was sent flying backwards. Derek heard her hit the ground, the thump and roll as she was thrown across the room. He gasped for air, letting it burn down his throat and into his lungs. “Derek,” the voice said and he expected to wake up but he didn’t. Instead, he felt another hand on his arm, warm fingers on his skin.

 

“Stiles,” he said softly as he tried to cough away the pain.

 

“Hey, big guy,” Stiles said and then his fingers were running through Derek’s hair.

 

“Are you really here?” he asked.

 

“You’re having a nightmare,” Stiles said.

 

“That’s not a fucking answer, Stiles,” Derek snapped and tried to roll to face Stiles. He body still ached, and when he moved pain shot through his limbs.

 

“Yes, I’m here,” Stiles said. “It’s a spell. I’ve been trying to get you to notice me for ages.”

 

“You kept calling me,” Derek said.

 

“I tried it with my dad and some of the others, but you’re the only one I can reach out to,” Stiles answered. “Soulmates.”

 

“I saw Persephone,” Derek said suddenly remembering.

 

“I know,” Stiles answered. “The tea is great, by the way.”

 

“Sam’s soulmate bought it,” Derek answered.

 

“He found them?” Stiles asked. “Wait, no. We don’t have time to talk, I’m sorry. I need to tell you something.”

 

“What?”

 

“The spell can only bring one person back,” Stiles said. Derek blinked his eyes rapidly trying to clear the fog and see Stiles.

 

“I know,” Derek answered. Stiles said something else, but suddenly Derek couldn’t hear him anymore. The words warped around his head, like someone had slowly down an audio track and then it pitched forward and sped up again.

 

“We’ll figure something out,” Stiles said.

 

“Haven’t we?” Derek asked.

 

“Can you hear me?” Stiles asked and his voice twisted again. The feeling of his fingers in his hair was gone, and the presence of someone else went with it. Derek woke with a jolt then, as his alarm beeped loudly next to him. He reached out and grabbed his cellphone and silenced the alarm.

 

“Fuck,” Derek snapped throwing his phone down next to him. Gale was peeking out of her bed, blinking large bead black eyes at him. She tilted her head from one side to the other, and then clicked a few times. Derek grunted, climbed out of bed, and stripped out of his clothing. He shifted, dropping down onto all fours, and then hopped back up onto his best.

 

“Another nightmare?” she asked.

 

“I was talking to Stiles,” he answered.

 

“He was trying to reach you in your dreams before I came here,” she said. Derek had been shifting a few times a day since they had found out Gale could speak. Sometimes Scott would come over and shift as well, so she could talk to them for a while. She seemed happier now, less jumpy and hissed way less often.

 

“He finally did. He was telling me something, but I couldn’t understand him,” Derek said.

 

“Dreams are unstable,” she answered. Derek dropped himself down, crossing his paws over one another, and resting his head on them.

 

“I’ve noticed,” he mumbled. Derek had finished his last project and had turned off his work phone. He set a notice up through his email and website to let people know he was away and taking a break from work. He wasn’t sure the notice would ever be removed because he wasn’t confident that he would survive the spell that he was going to cast. The ingredients hadn’t been hard to find, there was plenty of all of them in their storage. The hardest piece to find had been a bowl made of blue lace agate that was big enough for everything. Laura had found it in the end; she told him that he better not fuck it up because if he did, the second mortgage she put on her house to afford the thing, would have been for nothing. The hardest part of the whole thing was waiting the month and a half until the solar eclipse that he needed. It was approaching now, just eight more days and he could summon the Moirai to aid him.

 

“Are you ready?” she asked after a few minutes of silence.

 

“As ready as I can be,” he answered. Scott would be arriving soon to pick up Gale, and Sam had made arrangements to stay with Laura for the week. The spell wanted him alone for seven days, he had to remember his past, focus on his present, and then picture his future. None of it sounded pleasant to him, but he decided there were worse things. They hadn’t really gone grocery shopping this month, and the food in the loft was mostly canned or boxed. Anything fresh would be eaten in the first couple days, and then he would figure something else out. Each day he had to take a mix of the ingredients, lite them like incense, and then breathe them in. On the last day, he would leave the loft and go out to the family graveyard, and mix the rest of the ingredients under the solar eclipse.

 

He shifted back before Sam left for work, ate an unnecessarily large breakfast with him and then did the dishes as he waited for Scott to arrive. Gale spent the time on his shoulders, listening to him talk to different relatives that called to make see if he was sure about this. He ended his call with his mother, just as Scott knocked on the door. Derek let him in, glancing at the clock to see how much time he had until Scott needed to be gone, and then handed him, Gale. “You’re sure?” Scott asked.

 

“You’re not?”

 

“It’s a weird spell is all,” Scott said slowly. “I hate the idea of losing you too.”

 

“It’ll be fine,” Derek mumbled making Scott frown at him. It was an unconvincing lie and would have been too humans or shifters alike.

 

“Be careful,” Scott said and then he was gone. Derek went for a short jog, showered, and then headed out and met with John for lunch. They had lunch once a week and he was the only person who consistently talked about Stiles to him. Derek was sure that he would like John, even if he and Stiles weren’t soulmate. They met at an old diner that Stiles loved, and Derek got another unnecessarily large meal.

 

“You mother’s worried, you know,” John said as he pushed his salad around on his plate. Derek was sure that when Stiles got back, John would go back to fighting with him about his food choices, but even since Stiles got stuck John ate the way Stiles wanted.

 

“I know,” he answered. “But, so are you and you’ve been worried a lot longer.”

 

“It’s not a contest,” John said and Derek nodded at him.

 

“I know she’s worried about me, but there’s no reason for me not to try this,” Derek said. John fixed him with an unimpressed look and frowned at him.

 

“Deaton says it could kill you,” John said. “And there’s no reason for you to get yourself killed.”

 

“Bringing Stiles home is a good enough reason for me,” Derek said.

 

“I won’t lie about it; I do want him home something fierce,” John said softly. “I just don’t think you should risk your safety to do it.”

 

“I know it seems unsafe, but I believe that woman I met was Persephone and I believe that Stiles sent her to help get him home. He said the spell was safe and I believe him,” Derek explained. John watched him for a minute, thinking about something and then he nodded at him. John had been a surprising comfort when Stiles had first been trapped. He had stayed strong and confident through the whole thing, his belief in Stiles return never wavering. Derek wasn’t surprised by it; after all, a loving parent doesn’t often just give up on their child. Derek found it comforting. They talked about the spell, about how it was Derek’s connection to Stiles that would get him home. John paid for their lunch, even though Derek argued that he could do it. John insisted it was the least he could do. As they were leaving, John handed Derek a bag, inside was a photo album.

 

“To help with picturing your future,” John said then nodded his head and climbed into his car. Derek watched him drive away, held the bag close, and headed home himself. When he got there he locked the door behind him, turned to the empty loft, and sighed. He took the photo album from the bag and placed it on top of two similar ones that his mother had given him the day before. She had said almost the same thing as John as she pressed the books into his hands.

 

 _“To help you remember your past,”_ she had said glancing down at the albums and then back at his face. _“Sometimes bad things seem huge when you look back at them, but the good things were there and I want you to remember those too.”_ Derek hadn’t opened the albums yet, but he remembered them from when he was younger. His mother and grandmother sitting at the kitchen table sorting and choosing photos to go into it. He looked at the albums for a minute and then went to his room.

 

He gathered the ingredients carefully; checking to make sure nothing was missing. Then he took them all to the kitchen table and sorted them into piles. Once everything was organised, he wrapped bundles of them together like the book had told him. He set out seven rows of sage leaves, mixing different combinations of ingredients on each of the rows. When he finished he set them aside and went about cleaning the apartment. He didn’t need to do anything else today, they were starting a day sooner than they needed, to make sure he didn’t mess up by talking to someone. He spent the rest of the day reading but remembering nothing. Boyd brought him dinner, dropping it off without saying a word. He gave him a tight hug, in silent support, and then left. Derek only managed to eat half of his dinner, feeling sicker and sicker as the day went on. He went to bed so early that day the sun was still high in the sky. He was nervous for tomorrow and knew there was nothing he could do about it. So he climbed into bed, rolled onto his side, and closed his eyes. He managed to fall into a dreamless sleep, and when he woke to his alarm in the morning, it didn’t really feel like he had slept at all.

 

He moved slowly; showering, dressing, and eating like he was marching to the gallows. It was well past ten when he got the first bundle from the table. A mixture of witch hazel, rue, cinnamon, and poppies, and set it on a black iron plate they had found, and lit the corner on fire. He let it burn away on the iron plate, leaning over it and letting the smoke wrap around his face and burned his eyes. He squinted, but refused to close his eyes against the smoke, and didn’t move until tears fell from his eyes and sizzled against the surprisingly hot iron. He yanked back, closing his eyes, and feeling the tears making tracks on his cheeks. The room spun around him when he got to his feet, but after a minute it was fine. He poured a cup of rose water over the plate, wishing he could open a window to let the smells out of the apartment, but knew it would mess up the spell. So instead he tried to ignore them.

 

He took one of the photo albums from his mother and settled down on the couch. He set it on his lap and stared down at the cover of the album. It was a thick book; the cover wrapped in some kind of ivory fabric that made Derek suspect someone gave it to his parents for their wedding. The fabric was scribbled all over, bleeding lines of ink colouring the cover. He wondered who had been the one to draw on the outside of the book, he assumed it was Cora; she had always been drawing on the walls. He carefully opened the album to the first page, which had a single large glossy photo. It was a pack photo taken just after Cora was born, everyone jammed together in the backyard of the main house. His mother was sitting in the front of the photo, Sam and Laura on either side of her, with Derek and Cora sitting on her lap. His dad was standing behind Talia, leaning forward with his hands on her shoulders. The rest of the pack was around them and his uncle Stephen was a little blurry like he had rushed into the photo at the last minute. Everyone looked so happy.

 

Most of the pack had taken family photos after everything that happened with Apollo, desperate to reclaim the unity they had lost, everyone except for his immediate family. Laura had taken photos with her husband and children, but Talia hadn’t mentioned it to them. Derek thought that at the time, it was because his mother couldn’t bare the thought of a family photo without his dad. No one had pushed her, and it had slipped away. The album was full of photos of pack events, school plays, and birthday parties. There were pictures of every Halloween, every birthday, and every Christmas until Derek was 12. There were more albums at his mother’s house, a whole bookshelf full of them. The pack had taken photos of their families for as long as cameras were readily available. There were boxes in the basement too, full of photos that had never made it into an album. His aunt was in the middle of digitising all the photos she could get her hands on, scanning and restoring each image to preserve them further.

 

Derek spent the first day flipping through the photo album, taking out photos he liked the best, forcing himself to reflect on each image. He remembered racing after his sisters and cousins as they went trick-or-treating, flashing their eyes at people who asked, and laughing later that night when they gorged themselves on candy. He remembered desperately trying to blow out the candles on his birthday cake one year so that no one teased him about having a girlfriends or boyfriend because he was young and people still had cooties. Only to learn that they were trick candles and no matter how hard he tried, they would relight and continue to burn. He remembered Christmas mornings, the whole pack cramming themselves into the living room of the main house. He remembered being more excited to watch his family open the gifts he had picked for them, then getting into his own.

 

He remembered giving Sam a snake bite and then sapping away the pain while begging him not to tell on him. Sam didn’t tell, but Talia saw the mark and Derek confessed to it. He remembered being grounded for a week afterwards. There was a picture of him and Sam, sitting cross-legged on the kitchen table. Derek could see the red mark on Sam’s arm, but they were both smiling up at the camera. Derek was missing both of his front teeth, and Sam was missing one of his bottom teeth. He ate dinner surrounded by his childhood, carefully picking out the parts he liked best, making a pile on his table to protect himself from the memories he had to face tomorrow.

 

He barely slept that night, tossing and turning in his bed until he gave up and went to the couch. He put on instrumental music, which the book said was acceptable, and then stretched out and slept on and off. He woke the second day to the sound of someone pounding on his door. He rolled off the couch with more effort than it should have taken, and walked slowly through the loft. He peered through the peephole in the door, and when he was sure no one was there he pulled the door open. There was a box sitting in the front of the door with a note on top of it. _“Present,”_ was the only thing written on the paper. Derek glanced toward the elevator, then carried the box inside, and set it on the table for tomorrow.

 

He took the next bundle of Ingredients: Witch hazel, rue, bay leaves, and poppies, and set it out on the iron plate. He lit it on fire and like the day before, he leant over the plate and let the smoke burn his eyes. This time burned less and breathing the smoke was easier, but his head still spun when he sat back. He poured the rose water over the bundle once it had burned for a while, and then made himself breakfast. He was buttering a piece of toast when he heard movement behind him, the footsteps of someone sneaking across the room. He spun around, claws out and ready to bare his teeth, but no one was there. He searched the whole loft before he was comfortable enough to take his now cold breakfast. He ate on the couch, his blanket pushed to the side, and the second photo album from his mother sitting on the table in front of him. This one was wrapped in purple fabric and Derek wondered why seemingly all photo albums were made that way. There was a spot on the cover of this album, where another pack photo was placed. It was taken a week after he started high school, and the photo made his stomach turn.

 

The start of the album was easier, more memories of easy times and happy days, but as he flipped through the pages he disappeared from the photos. There were pictures of him with Paige, looking happy and excited, pictures of them playing a board game, and Derek could see a message from her soulmate on her arm. He missed Paige, not the silly high school romance they had before she got her first note, but the friendship they had built after that. She had moved the England when she finished high school, moved to be with them, and he knew she was happy there. He went to his room and wrote a reminder to call her on a sticky note, and pressed it to his computer screen. They still talked often, mostly through text message, and Derek used to go up to see her once or twice a year. But, the visits had started to slow, when he went to university, and now it had been over a year since he’d seen her at all.

 

He went back to the couch and examined a picture of him and his friends from high school. They had all gone now or at least Derek had stepped out of their friend group at the end of high school. There were pictures of him on the basketball team, pictures of him thinking he looked way cooler than he really did, and then there was almost nothing. There was a picture of Cora and Malia goofing around in the living room, and Derek was in the background. He looked like he was just passing through, and he could see black swirls twisting up his arm. His heart hammered in his chest as he looked at it. There was another picture, where he looked tired and his eyes looked dead. These were the photos taken when he was with Kate. Sneaking in and out of the house, sometimes even getting help from Peter or Sam. He started flipping through the pages, trying to get passed the pages of photos that he had refused to be in. He wanted to pass that part of his life, he slammed the book closed before he reached the end, and dropped it onto the living room table. The smell of the rose water made his headache softly, too overpowering in the confined space.

 

He got the book with the spell and reread the instructions, to see if he missed anything there. The book warned about ignoring the tasks for each day, and after a few minutes of deep breathing, Derek went back to the photos. He lifted the album and as he did, a brown envelope fell from the back of the book. It slipped from between the pages and then dropped with a surprisingly heavy thump to the ground. He reached carefully for the envelope, lifting it up, and looking it over. There were not marks on it, barely any sign that it had ever been used. If it weren’t for the weight, Derek would have thought it was empty. He turned it over in his hands a few times and then dumped the contents of the envelope into his lap. Inside were a few stacks of photos, in old creased blue envelopes from a photo development shop.

 

These pictures weren’t really sorted through; they looked like they were the ones that didn’t make it into the book. There were more pictures of Derek in these photos, where he looked angry or irritated that the photos were being taken at all. Some were too blurry to be considered good photos but clear enough that you could tell who was in them. The first few photos weren’t anything too interesting, but then there were ones that surprised him. There was a photo of him sitting in the backyard, drawing on his arm and looking upset. He remembered doing that but didn’t remember anyone nearby. It had been only a few days before he confronted Kate when he was starting to realise something was wrong with them.

 

There was a photo of him sitting in the hospital, taken from the doorway when he wasn’t looking. He wondered suddenly if his mother always had a camera on her, and he’d just never noticed it before. The photo in the hospital was only a few days after the last one after Kate had tried to kill him since he was the only one she could reach. He hated being at the hospital, the food was awful, the bed was uncomfortable, and everyone and their dog wanted to visit with him. They had questions and concerns, some wanted to pray with him, and he hated every second of it.

 

Another one of the photos was taken in the soundproof room in the basement, of him sitting in a chair, looking tired and miserable. He remembered this one being taken; his mother had come downstairs with the camera and asked him if she could take a picture. At the time he didn’t understand but he had agreed at first. She had snapped the photo, and suddenly he hated it. Without even seeing anything he hated the picture. He hated himself more in that moment than he ever had before. He didn’t want anyone to see him, to remember him, to have a record of him. So he lunged from the chair at his mother, digging claws and teeth into her arms. The camera smashed on the ground, the lens cracking from the casing and rolling away. She had roared at him, sending him tumbling backwards, panicked but still furious. He screamed at her, whatever came to mind, wishing desperately that she’d be angrier with him. He wanted her to hate him, he wanted her to leave him to die, and he wanted so badly to be forgotten.

 

Talia hadn’t done any of that, instead, she had picked up the pieces of the camera and put them on a shelf. She made him popcorn, put on a movie, and sat with him. When the movie ended she had looked at him, with a soft smile on her lips and said. _“You be as angry or as sad as you need, I’m not going anywhere. I’ll always be here.”_ He had broken down into hard convulsing sobs that wracked his body. He clung to his mother, apologising until he couldn’t breathe. Maybe that was when he decided he needed to seem better, or maybe in that moment, he really wanted to be better. The memories seemed so distant now, and when he thought about the pain he had felt before, it almost seemed unreal. It was a strange thing to realise, that even with all the pain he had been through, the time had taken it away from him. Kate, as terrifying as she was, felt smaller now. A completely unimportant person, undeserving of even the angry he had felt.

 

The other photos were still of him, taken when he wasn’t looking or paying attention. Derek knew it was his mother’s way of keeping him in the book while respecting that he didn’t want to be seen. A strange balance between the two things and Derek found that he was glad she had done it. Derek had stopped avoiding photos during his second year of university after his aunt said he was too pretty to be sitting on the sidelines. He realised that sitting out of photos was drawing more attention to him, than just being in them. So, he had pushed the fear away, still feeling it but ignoring it, in favour of one less thing to worry about. The photos at the back of the pile were from breaks from school and trips home. Then, the photos were different, printed on plain white paper instead of photo paper. Derek wondered if his mother had found these just to give to him. There were pictures of pack parties, and to Derek’s surprise, a picture taken in Peter’s backyard where both he and Stiles were present.

 

The picture was taken during one of his breaks from school. They were sitting at different tables, Stiles grinning at Malia, while Derek sat talking to his uncle. He didn’t even realise that they had been around each other before, let alone so close that they could reach out and touch each other. It made his chest ache, and then he flipped to the next picture. This one was taken later that same night; as they were getting ready to go their separate ways. Stiles was half into his jacket, looking a bit like he was stuck, and Scott was laughing at him. Derek looked unimpressed, and he wondered if he had seen Stiles then, but only seen his younger sister’s annoying friend. They were so close together and Derek almost hated himself for not really noticing Stiles sooner.

 

The last picture in the pile was made Derek’s heart stop. It was the two of them, during their six months together, sitting in the backyard. Derek was leaning back against the side of the back deck, and Stiles was stretched out with his head in Derek’s lap. Derek flipped the photo over, to see if there was anything written on the back, but there wasn’t. He wondered where it had been, who had taken it, and why no one had given it to him sooner. He had asked everyone who would listen if they had any pictures of the two of them together, and everyone had said no. He thought that maybe it had been lost on a memory card, found later by his mother and printed for him to have now. The picture was taken at a strange angle, tilted and crooked, and they were off centre like the person taking the photo had done it by mistake or didn’t know what they were doing. But, despite framing, the photo was clear and wonderful. Derek was smiling while he looked down at Stiles, hand resting on Stiles' chest. Stiles was talking, mouth open, one hand pointing up at the stars. He had been explaining why astrological signs sounded like bullshit but had a valid and useful place in the magical community. Stiles’ other hand was on top of Derek’s on his chest, long fingers wrapped around his hand.

 

It had been near the beginning of their relationship when things were quiet and they had all the time in the world. They were just starting to learn who the other person was, what their interests and passions were. They were just starting. Derek clutched the picture to his chest, letting the others fall from his lap and scatter across the floor. When he went to bed that night, he propped the photo up on his bedside table, with plans to find a frame for it once everything was over.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, life is busy and such, so I'm gonna keep trying to update once a week, but I don't know what day I'll get it posted.


	6. Chapter 6

He walked slowly down the hallway, his hand pressed against the wall as he walked, claws cutting into the wallpaper, leaving a trail to follow back to safety. A light flickered in the darkness ahead of him, not enough for him to see the hallway, just enough to see if there were darker shapes ahead of him to avoid. He wanted to stop walking, but no matter what he thought about his legs didn’t stop moving. They continued forward, one after the other, like a soldier running drills. _“Marching to the grave,”_ an unseen voice whispered to him. A hand running along his neck for a second, before it was gone, and so was any warmth he had been feeling. He used his free hand to rub at his other arm, trying to force warmth into his limp, but it didn’t help. After a few more steps he could hear something, the drip and slouch of moving water, and then there was the overpowering smell of chlorine. He stepped through the doorway, letting him out onto a walled in balcony with large windows overlooking a swimming pool. He looked around slowly, wondering where he was and what was happening.

 

He watched silently as a man pulled a large brown tarp across the surface of the water, setting weights on each corner to keep it from floating away from the edges. Once he was finished, the man looked around for a moment, seemed satisfied, and then left the pool area. He heard the thump and click of the door below closing and locking. He took a few steps to the side, slipping easily into the shadows, pressing himself against the wall. A few minutes later, he heard footfalls in the hallway. A beam of light poured through the door, then the man leant in and glanced from side to side. The light of the torch didn’t reach far enough into the shadows, leaving him untouched and hidden, and then the man pulled the door closed and locked it. He listened to the sound of the footsteps retreating down the hallway and then there was silence around him. His heart was suddenly racing in his chest, whatever was coming scared him, almost to death.

 

His eyes adjusted to the darkness slowly, like a human’s instead of a wolf’s, and then he took a step toward the large windows. His face was suddenly there, Derek looking into his own eyes, and his own face. He gasped in a soft breath, having expected someone or something else, but his body kept moving. He reached out and unlatched the lock that kept the windows closed. He pushed it open and away from himself, listening to the soft squeaking as it moved through the silence. He waited for a second, listening to the hallway and the building around him. When he was sure there was nothing coming for him, he climbed up onto the window sill and braced himself against the frame. The smell of chlorine filled his nose and burned down his throat as he breathed. Then, with no warning, he stepped out of the window. His body plummeted through the air, down to the pool, where he crashed into the brown tarp.

 

He could feel the fabric under his feet, tangling as he kicked for a moment. He heard, in that muted underwater way, the sounds of the weights being pulled into the pool. Then the tarp was wrapping and twisting around him. His body came back to him then, and he started kicking frantically in the pool. He tried desperately to swim upwards, but the more he kicked and twisted the more unsure of which direction was up. The more he moved the more the tarp curled around him, wrapping him in a cold embrace that was dragging him farther from the surface. He felt his lungs start to burn, and suddenly he couldn’t help himself and he gasped. The water rushed into his open mouth, down his throat, and filled his lungs. He body forced him to cough and then gasp, making him take in more water. It happened over and over again until even the panic was slipping away and the darkness wrapped around him. He couldn’t help himself, everything hurt and he kept trying to breathe. His body was so tired, so cold, and so sore. _“Marching to your grave.”_ The voice said again and Derek opened his mouth to cry out.

 

His ears started to ring, a buzzing noise vibrating through his body, and then he was blinking sleep out his eyes. He was lying in his bed, tangled in his sheets, and twisted uncomfortably on his side. He woke to his alarm buzzing, and he rolled out of bed feeling strange. His limbs felt heavy, too long and big for his body and no matter what he did or how he moved the feeling clung to him. He stumbled out of his room, pulling the door closed behind him. He moved on autopilot that morning, filling a bowl with water for Gale and then remembering he was alone. He dumped the water into a potted plant that Sam had sitting on the counter, and then made himself toast again. He ate and then lit the third bundle of ingredients: a mixture of St. John’s wort, witch hazel, moonwort, and poppies. He did the same as always, dropping it onto the iron plate, setting the corner on fire and letting the smoke burn his eyes. Then he poured rose water over the whole thing, and stood up and stretched. He was nervous about the today and tomorrow because he had to live and focus on the present. He had to keep his thoughts away from Stiles and his family, away from his work or his friends.

 

He had trouble shaking the feeling of the dream he had. The dreams he remembered from the last few months felt so much more real than the ones he’d had the rest of his life. They were like stepping into someone else’s life or another reality. Some, he assumed were memories, others he didn’t know what to make of at all. So, instead of focusing on them he turned to the box that had been left outside his apartment door. He picked up the piece of paper on the box and looked at it again. _‘Present’_ was written in familiar hand, but he couldn’t place who it belonged too. He opened the box and pulled out a stack of puzzle books. _‘To keep your thoughts from wandering, dear nephew.’_ Derek raised an eyebrow and smiled a little, it wasn’t like Peter to try and help but sometimes he could be surprising. He shuffled through the books until he found a book of crossword puzzles. Derek settled on his couch, legs stretched out across the cushions, the book in his lap, and pencil in hand. The journal with the spell had stated that on the second and third day, Derek could do other things. He could read, clean, or listen to music without words. So Derek felt that the puzzle books were safe. He spun the pencil around a few times before reading through the clues until he found one that he knew. Then he started from there, reading the ones around it until he had filled the whole puzzle.

 

The puzzles weren’t hard and it was nice to focus on nothing but the mostly useless information in his head. He made himself tea a few hours later, only to stop halfway to the living room when his bedroom door slammed closed. He put the tea on a table and rushed through the loft until he reached the door. He pressed his ear against the door and listened for movement inside the room. There was nothing for a moment, and then a quick sharp snapping noise. He yanked the door, letting it slam against the wall as it flew open, but there was no one inside the room. Nothing was out of place and nothing smelt wrong. He searched his room until he had turned everything over twice, and then he went through the rest of the suite. There was nothing there. He was half way back to the couch when the floorboards behind him creaked under someone’s weight. He spun around all claws and teeth, to nothing. Derek opened his mouth to call out, to see if someone was there, but he couldn’t, speaking would ruin the spell. So, instead, he closed his mouth and went back to the couch. He ignored the sound of footsteps and fumbling movements. Instead, he put on a playlist of instrumental music and focused on solving as many puzzles as he could.

 

He didn’t sleep that night; instead, he sat awake and aware on the couch. The dream still hung in his mind, strange, confusing, and wholly unwelcome. It clawed at the back of his mind like it was a memory instead of a dream. So, he filled puzzle book after puzzle book with whatever answers came to mind, whether they were wrong or not, he couldn’t bring himself to care. He focused on the words on the pages, refusing to let his mind wander. When the sun rose the next morning, he lit the fourth bundle on the iron plate. This time it was a mixture of mugwort, basil, coriander, and poppies. He let the smoke burn his eyes longer that day, feeling more tears than normal and breathing in more of it. Today it felt different; like it was stronger, more fragrant, and caused his head to spin. He threw himself off the couch when a hand clamped down on his shoulder, but like every time before, no one was there. There were only the strange morning silence and the soft light of the sun through clouds. He poured the rose water over the plate before he searched his apartment again. He wasn’t surprised when he didn’t find anyone, just reflections of himself in the windows and mirrors. He could see how tired he looked like he hadn’t really slept in days which maybe he hadn’t, it made his body ache. His hair was plastered to his head, looking unwashed and greasy. He looked too small in his clothing, his shirt hanging off his shoulder in a way that hadn’t been a problem for him since he was a child. He decided that he would shower, to try and wash away the strangeness that was settling over him.

 

He closed and locked the bathroom door behind him, then stripped out of his clothes, and climbed into the shower. The water felt uncomfortable on his skin, like he was running a fever, and burning out of his body. He reached out and grabbed the shower dial, making it colder and colder until his skin felt like it was cooling. He tilted his head back, letting it run over his neck and showers. It didn’t ease the ache in his limbs, but it made the sticky sick feeling slowly leech away. He shuffled forward until the water was hitting his face, cleaning away the grime of smoke and incense. He didn’t move for a minute, breathing in slowly through his nose, and then suddenly he could smell chlorine. His body tensed, he opened his mouth to gasp, and sucked water in from the shower. He stumbled backwards, feet squeaking on the ceramic as he coughed out the water again. He slammed his hand against the wall to steady himself when he took another step back and felt his feet slip half an inch under him. He stood frozen, taking slow deep breaths to try and slow down his racing heart. He pulled his hand slowly from the wall, letting the broken chunks of tile drop from the wall and clatter to the tub around his feet.

 

He watched the pieces of tile slide past his feet and gather at the shower drain, as the water tried to push them down through the holes. He reached out slowly, turned off the water, and climbed out of the shower. The smell of chlorine was still there like he had just climbed out of a swimming pool and it was clinging to him. _“Or been dragged from one,”_ Derek thought as he wrapped himself in a towel. He paused at the bathroom door and listened for movement on the other side, then—because he had forgotten to get other clothing—he walked through the apartment to his bedroom. He was relieved when he closed the door behind him and had heard nothing. He dug through his dresser until he found an old pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt that he didn’t remember owning, and changed into those. He decided that if he was going to go crazy, he might as well do it comfortably.

 

The idea that he was going crazy settled in his mind, feeling oddly comfortable once it was in place. It seemed like a reasonable answer to most of his problems, he thought. Cabin fever, he thought, as he stepped back out into the living room. Except, isolation wasn’t a new thing for Derek, in the past he had gone days without speaking to anyone, and weeks without seeing anyone. Four days weren’t enough to drive him mad, no matter how appealing the idea seemed. So, as he stood in his living room listening to the scratch and rustle of someone in Sam’s room, he couldn’t believe it wasn’t real. He went up the stairs, two at a time, feet silent on the steps as he went. He also wasn’t surprised when he arrived in the bedroom and no one was there. The only smell was Sam and the lingering scent of Eilís’ perfume underneath everything else. He turned around again, making his way back downstairs, and looking for something to eat. He found as the days went on, that he wasn’t as hungry as normal. Maybe it was because he was barely moving, or maybe it was the spell.

 

Derek dumped a can of mushroom soup into a pot, and the poured a second cans worth of water over the top of it. He stared at it for a minute, before mixing it together, and feeling a little sick to his stomach at the idea of eating it. Derek didn’t like the taste of canned soups, to begin with, too metallic and bitter, but mushroom soup was even worse when water was used instead of milk. He dug into his cupboard, pulling out as many complimentary spices as he could find, dumping them into the soup, and hoping it helped. It didn’t, he decided when he tasted some of it. He poured the soup into a bowl anyway, turning back to the living room. He only made it a step before he stopped, the bowl falling from his hand as he realised there was a woman standing in the middle of the living room. She was holding the spell book in her hands, looking at it like it confused her. Derek opened his mouth to shout at her, only to have her snapped her head in his direction and shush him. One of her long boney fingers pressing to her lips, as a grin spread across her face. She looked terrifying but also terrified, with pale skin, wild dark hair and eyes.

 

Derek lunged at her, he didn’t shift, and part of him thought he only did it because of habit. When he should have collided with her body, nothing was there. He crashed to the floor and rolled into the wall on the far side of the room. The spell book landing on the ground with a thump, that made Derek relax a little. He jumped back to his feet, ready to attack again, but she was gone. He listened to the rest of the loft, but there were no noises around him. There was just the hum of the refrigerator and the soft strings of the classical music that was still playing. His shoulders slumped, and he sighed heavily. He was tired, too tired to be awake, but too afraid to go to sleep. He walked across the room, picking up the spell book as he did, and put it on the counter. He looked down at the mess of his lunch, glad for the small mercy that his bowl didn’t break when it hit the floor. He found a cloth, knelt down and started to clean away the mess. He let the strangeness of the day settled over him, pressing down on his shoulders and spin, making him feel compressed and small. He focused on that feeling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, short for this story anyway. Gonna try and get another one done sooner if I can, hoping that I'm less busy this week. But who knows. 
> 
> Also, is it weird that I worry about the people who used to comment all the time but don't anymore? Like, I'm not worried that you might not be reading anymore, that's fine I know tastes change. Just more worried that something bad has happened and I'll never know because I just can't. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	7. Chapter 7

The moon seemed to be racing through the sky, lighting the darkness as it climbed higher and higher above him. The light poured around him for a second, making him feel warm momentarily before it was gone and he was freezing in the darkness. A panicking desperation suddenly filled his chest, a need to be in the light and not let it leave him. So he raced after it, chasing the moon through the sky, on the ground below it. His feet pounded against the ground, echoing around him as he ran until it sounded like there was a stampede of people chasing down the moon. He could feel them, a moment later, pressing around him like a mob. He didn’t stop for them; instead, he tore away his clothing, letting it fall to the ground as he raced through the darkness. He tipped forward, hands colliding with the ground for only a second before they were paws and he was really running. He pushed himself faster and harder but the moon didn’t slow and he couldn’t catch it.

 

He howled into the sky, mournfully crying out to it as it moved farther and farther away from him. He howled again, but this time it sounded like a scream. A broken, desperate sound made by a broken heart, as he searched for his lost lover. The howl tore from his throat; ripping air from his lungs and making him stumble. The footsteps around him faltered as well, like a pack stopping for their fallen leader. Then, he realised, he really wasn’t alone. He was surrounded by other wolves and other shifters, different colours and sizes, and they watched him. Beyond them, there were other creatures, hooves pawing at the dirt and wings beating in the air. There were humans beyond even them, humans or creatures that didn’t change shapes. There were hundreds of eyes glowing gold and blue, blinking in the darkness at him as they waited for his next move. He slowly lifted himself off the ground, taller and stronger then he had been a moment before, and then he ran again. His paws kicked up dirt and dust, racing on with any army at his heels. He howled again with the power and meaning of an alpha and the pack howled, screamed, and shouted their responses.

 

Then suddenly he was racing through a building, white and gleaming, with marble statues painted bright colours. He raced through distantly familiar hallways, tracing a path that he remembered from another time. Then he was in a banquet hall, knocking a table away and sending food scattered across the floor. He passed through a door and then he wasn’t in the building anymore. Instead, he was racing through trees he didn’t know, to a farm that lived in his dreams. Next, he was back in the preserve, running along paths that he knew so well that they could have been part of him. His body knew this place and in that moment, he knew it even better. He knew it like he was the rain that poured through the canopy and fed the trees and plants there. He knew it like it was part of him and he was part of it. He knew it like he had died and been reborn there over and over until they were the same thing. His claws were the roots in the ground; his body was the trunks of the trees, and his fur was the leaves that covered the trees. He ran the paths with the pack behind him, years of his pack, he realised. He was being followed by them all, everyone who had every come before him, and they chased the moon with him.

 

He broke through the trees suddenly, coming to a stop at the edge of a cliff that didn’t exist in in real life. It broke away from the world and plummeted into the darkness below him. He stared out over the edge of the world, watching the moon vanish from his reach, sinking deeper and deeper into the darkness. “Plans change,” someone said beside him. A voice he didn’t know, deeper and richer than anyone he had ever heard before.

 

“No matter how well they are planned,” another voice said.

 

“No one is to blame,” a third voice said. Derek turned his head, looking at the three unknown men who surrounded him. They stood out against the dream; bright, hard light against the dull world he was in. Each one went down on one knee, in turn, fists pressed to their chests, and heads bowed to him. “Chase him,” the third man said again. Derek turned back to the darkness, watching the moon sink out of his sight below the horizon. He threw his head back and howled to the sky, and then threw himself from the cliff into the darkness below.

 

Derek jolted awake that morning, breathless with his heart pounding a panicked rhythm against his ribs. He stared at the ceiling, thinking of the army in his dream and the way the moon ran from him. Had the moon been running? Was it fleeing into the darkness beyond Derek’s reach on purpose? Or was it something else? He rolled onto his side as a pained feeling spread through his chest and settled into his bones. He let the feeling sit for a few minutes before his alarm was ringing, and he climbed out of bed. He had felt so confident in his dream, braver and stronger than he thought he ever he been. He tried desperately to pull that feeling back into his chest but he couldn’t find it. He looked at the picture of them beside his bed and took a deep breath in. He had made it four days alone, and over two years without Stiles, he could make it two more days.

 

He took the fifth bundle of ingredients, set it on the iron plate like he had each day before, and lit it on fire. He let the mixture of rue, cinnamon, basil, coriander, and poppies burn his eyes again. Then, once he had put it out, he ate breakfast in silence. His mind wandered to the woman from the day before, but as soon as he thought of her, he forced her from his mind. He didn’t have time to worry about her or whatever she was. Today he had to picture his future. This one, of all of the days, seemed like it would be the easiest. He hadn’t spent much time when he was younger thinking about his future. Instead, after Kate, he had just let life happen to him. He let it crash over him like waves, as he half-heartedly tried to keep swimming. He had gotten _better_ because his parents had wanted him to. He had gone to university for the same reason. Finding his soulmate, someone who was so bright and happy and full of energy, lit his world up. It made him want a future again.

 

He took the photo album John had given him to the couch. It was a hardcover book that was very obviously new, it smelt like a bookstore with an edge of the plastic wrap that most products came in. Derek opened the cover slowly, listening to the sounds of the spine snapping in a few places as it turned. It seemed like it had been opened once before, but like it had been done carefully. There was an envelope between the first few pages with _Look at the book first,_ written across it. Derek set the envelope on the table and flipped the page. The pictures in this book were… very new. They weren’t arranged in any kind of order, but that didn’t seem to matter. There were pictures of Derek working on the house or apartment building. Some of the pictures were of him training, talking, and laughing with the pack. There were pictures of him with his mother and Laura, hunched over her desk reading through the Alpha training material they had put together. There were pictures of Derek sitting on the ground being climbed on by a few of the pups, laughing as he lifted Nathan into the air over his head. There were pictures of him with other pack members, just talking or spending time together. There were even photos of the blueprints to his house in the compound and more photos of the house itself.

 

Then, there were pictures of Stiles. They were like the ones in Derek’s mother’s photo album, pictures from when Stiles was small, birthday parties, and Christmases. The pictures each seemed like something important was happening in them, carefully chosen to show… more. Derek reached the middle of the album and found that from there on, it was empty. He checked each page, and once he was done, he took the envelope from the table. He opened it carefully, slipping out the paper from inside. _‘I met Claudia in high school, she had written her homework on her arm. I drew an arrow to it and wrote: “looks boring”. I was trying to be cool, trying to not seem overly excited; she told me later, she didn’t even see it until she showered and washed her homework away. I ended up writing hi on my other arm the next day. She noticed that one and wrote back hello. I was always covered in notes and lists after that, the whole time I was with her, right up until the end. I had to wear my long sleeve uniform all year because the notes were often embarrassing and unprofessional. On the last good day she had, she wrote a list of reasons why she loved me on her arm. Stiles helped her with it, so some of the reasons were from him. The nurses washed it away before I could take a picture of it, but Stiles had written it all down. I have it with me all the time, a photocopy so I don’t wreck it._

 

_Raising Stiles had never been easy; he had more energy than any ten kids together and when Claudia died part of him went with her. It was even harder after that, he acted out, and I didn’t always do the best of jobs in treating him right and taking care of him. But, somehow through it all, I ended up with an amazing son. He’s smarter than I’ve been or ever will be. He’s stronger and better than I ever was too. God knows it would never have happened without Melissa stepping in. And, he’s so much like his mother, his spirit, his energy, even the way he moves. He is so much like her, it makes me hurt sometimes. Seeing her in him has been the hardest part of losing her, but I love that I can still see her somehow. I love that she gets to live on in him. This might seem strange to you Derek, this whole letter, but I do have a point. Being with Claudia and being with Melissa are different things, very different things. The way I love them is different. My love for Claudia was everything a soulmates love should have been. We fit together and we loved each other endlessly but we said we loved each other before we even know what love felt like. I still love her and always will but it was different. My love for Melissa is built on understanding and time together, it’s built on life experiences and raising our boys together. It’s built on hardships and friendship that made us what we are now._

 

_When I talk to you Derek, when I listen to you talk to other people, I know what you feel is both kinds of love for Stiles. You have the love that being soulmates causes, the one that explodes through you when you meet and get together. You also have the love that comes from understanding and time together, even though it was short, it’s there too. You have love built on experiences and hardships that you faced together. You have a love that comes from separation and wanting to be together. You have a love that I didn’t realise I had for Claudia until I saw you feeling it. A love that comes from fond memories and happy times together, one that only comes once that other person is gone. You, Derek Hale, are a better man than I ever could have imagined Stiles ending up with, and I’d hoped for the best person possible. I know it’s hard to see what kind of a person you are, no matter what anyone tells you, but you are a good man._

 

_I want you to know, no matter what happens after this week, I’m glad you tried and I’ll never blame you for anything. I’ve never blamed you for anything; I know you did everything you could and that’s all I could hope for. And if it works, I’ll never be able to thank you enough for it. It will always be more than anything I could have wanted. This album is for you and Stiles to fill when he gets back. Fill it with pictures of the two of you together, ask him to tell you the stories from the pictures of him, and tell him the stories of the pictures of you. Learn everything about each other, ask him his favourite colour, and his favourite dinosaur, he still has one. Get him to show you what foods I’m allowed to eat, show him what your sibling's favourite foods are. Argue with each other, fight like you hate each other, be real people. Just because you’ve been without him doesn’t mean you have to be happy forever once he’s back. Be frustrated and be in love. Have a future together._

 

_John.’_

 

Derek scrubbed his hand over his face, trying to get the tears that had started without him even realising it. There was something strange about getting… permission and validation from Stiles’ father. It made that strange ache his dream had caused intensify. Happiness and a strange kind of guilt bubbled and battled inside of him. He folded the letter back up, carefully slipping it into the envelope and tucking it back into the album. The floorboards behind him creaked and he felt the back of the couch depressed like someone was leaning against it but Derek ignored them. He knew when he turned no one would be there. So, instead, he stared at the photos again, thinking about a life with Stiles after all this was over. He imagined a finished house, closer in looks to Derek’s parents’ house then he believed theirs would end up. The walls all painted warm dark colours with heavy curtains and sleek but comfortable furniture. He thought of neat and clean rooms, with the opportunity to be anything. Then he remembered Stiles bedroom, it hadn’t been dirty, but it had been cluttered. So, he pictured the same house, filling with clutter. He pictured books never put away and spell ingredients forgotten on shelves and counter tops. He pictured piles of mountain ash that made him stumble, and small missed flakes of wolfsbane that made him itch.

 

He got up as he daydreamed, went to his bedroom, grabbed the photo of them and sat at his desk. He propped the photo up against some of his books, turned on his computer and opened the plans for their house. He hadn’t made plans for what the rooms would be used for, but now he wanted to, he wanted to give each room a purpose, or at least a temporary one until Stiles could make changes. He picked colours he’d never normally use, too bright and too intrusive for his tastes, but he could see Stiles loving them. He laughed involuntarily at the thought because that’s what Stiles was, too bright and too intrusive. He had dug into Derek’s fucking soul and made it his, he had planted a dumb little flag that probably said something stupid there, and Derek loved it. He honest to God loved it. 

 

“Sentimental,” a voice said behind him. He tensed in his chair and then turned slowly to see if anyone was there. The same woman stood in the middle of his room, smiling widely at him. Derek stood up and frowned at her. “Not very talkative,” she said. Derek took a deep breath, trying to smell her, trying to confirm she was really there at all. He realised she was holding the spell book again, her long nails tapping silently against the cover. Derek took a step toward her and held his hand out, asking for the book from her. She looked down at the cover and seemed surprised that it was in her hands at all. She looked at him again and smiled even wider. “It’s an interesting spell, but you’re not doing a very good job right now thinking about the future right now. Talking to me puts you back in the present, doesn’t it?” Derek felt his stomach twist for a second and then took a deep breath. He looked at the book again and thought about how he needed it to get Stiles back. He needed it or he wouldn’t be able to do the spell on the last day.

 

 _“Think about the spell,”_ he thought and then lunged at the woman. He pictured lighting the next bundle and letting it burn. He pictured the preserve, and the graveyard, and setting up the ritual. He pictured Stiles coming home and being with him again. He pictured anything he could as he threw himself at the woman and collided with her. She went backwards, hit the ground with a thump, and then was gone. He grabbed the book from where it had landed and clutched it to his chest. Derek went back to his desk, back to roughing out the rooms and guessing what would work best for each thing. He didn’t let himself think of the woman, he didn’t have time to think about her. He even pulled out printed versions of the plans and started sketching in where furniture could go. He focused on the page, he still wasn’t even sure that the woman was real. The furniture in his mind, changed from sleek and modern, to large overstuffed chairs and couches. They became things they could sink into and exist together with nothing else. He sketched out plans for a deck and sunroom that weren’t part of the original design. He made it big enough that Stiles could work out there if he wanted. He added towering windows that would let in the sun and moon. He put his office on the top floor, overlooking the sunroom and out into the backyard where the greenhouse was.

 

When he looked up again it was nighttime, dark enough that it startled him. He realised how tired he was then too, heavy limbs and a sore spin from leaning over his desk all day. He didn’t eat before bed, he thought about it, and decided it was too much effort. Instead, he brushed his teeth, changed, and crawled into bed. He could feel himself slipping off to sleep when something in his living room smashed to the ground. He fired out of bed, out of his room and into the main area of the loft. He looked around frantically for a minute before he found one of the lamps shattered on the floor. In the remains of the lamp, was the spell book, like it had been the thing to knock the lamp down. He made his way across the room and picked the book up. He knew it had been on his desk, tucked under the stack of papers. He opened the book again, flipping through to pages until he reached the spell. Written in

 

When he looked up again it was nighttime, dark enough that it startled him. He realised how tired he was then too, heavy limbs and a sore spin from leaning over his desk all day. He didn’t eat before bed, he thought about it, and decided it was too much effort. Instead, he brushed his teeth, changed, and crawled into bed. He could feel himself slipping off to sleep when something in his living room smashed to the ground. He fired out of bed, out of his room and into the main area of the loft. He looked around frantically for a minute before he found one of the lamps shattered on the floor. In the remains of the lamp, was the spell book, like it had been the thing to knock the lamp down. He made his way across the room and picked the book up. He knew it had been on his desk, tucked under the stack of papers. He opened the book again, flipping through to pages until he reached the spell. Written in dark pen were the words _‘Don’t sleep between the fifth and sixth night. Picture your future’_ Derek knew that hadn’t been there when he looked at it last time. He reached out and ran his fingers over the words, watching the ink smudge, still fresh on the page.

 

“I’m rooting for you,” the woman said. She was standing next to him now, with her hands on her hips. “Can’t let you mess up by sleeping when you shouldn’t. Strange man who wrote the spell down, he had a lot on his mind. Missed bits of information.” Derek snapped the book closed, looking at her for a second longer before he turned and went to the kitchen. He set the book down on the counter and pulled open the fridge to find something to eat. He wondered, as he looked, what would be the first thing Stiles ate when he got home. He wondered if Stiles was hungry where he was, or if there was food there for him to eat. He thought about curly fries, greasy burgers, and too much candy. He decided to make himself soup again, he got another can of metallic tasting mushroom soup and heated it on the stove. He poured half the soup into a bowl and made his way to the table.

 

“Are you just going to ignore me?” she asked as he walked passed her. That had been his plan, but then he stopped mid-step and turned back around. He dug in the cupboard and pulled out a second bowl, and poured the rest of the soup into it. He carried them both to the table, and then nodded at her and then it. She seemed startled by that, but after a minute she joined him. She watched him, as he started to eat. She lifted the spoon from the bowl, filling it with soup, and lifting it to her mouth. Derek watched her, wondering what Stiles would do in his place, how he would deal with something that might be a hallucination or a god or a monster. She ate two or three spoonfuls of soup before the spoon clattered to the bowl and she was gone. He gathered the dishes, letting his mind wander to thoughts of a domestic life that he desperately wanted. He wondered and imagined him and Stiles fighting and arguing over who should cook and who should clean. He pictured them curled up on the couch together or pressed tightly to each other in bed after fighting.

 

He let his mind wander to places and things he had ignored for more than two years. He tightened his hands on the edge of the sink, feeling heat pooling in his stomach, and a sudden desperate want. He had ignored the thoughts of being with Stiles physically again, pushed them away and forced on other things, but now Stiles could be home in two days. They could be together again in two days. Derek let his mind wander through those thoughts, just briefly, before he shook them out of his head. He went back to his bedroom, back to his desk, and the plans for their home. He didn’t move again until his alarm was beeping, then he went and lit the sixth bundle of ingredients.

 

This one was a mixture of cinnamon, moonwort, anise, garlic, and poppies. It smelt the worst of them all; the garlic was overpowering and made his stomach turn. He waited until the whole bundle was gone before he poured the rose water onto the plate. He took a deep breath in and it was like the rose water coated his mouth. He could feel it on his tongue, thick, and heavy and disgusting. He made a note to tell Stiles to please never use rose water for anything around him. He took the rose water and the iron plate, once it had cooled, and put them both in a bag with the rest of the items he needed. Fear crept into his chest as he put them down, and all the confidence of being with Stiles again was gone. He thought about how hard magic had always been for him. He thought about how he stumbled over the simplest things and was grateful that he didn’t need to remember words for the spell.  Then he thought about how easy Stiles had made it look. The way his fingers twitched and his limbs moved, sending sparks of magic through the air. He thought about asking Stiles, in the future, to teach him the more basic things.

 

Derek took a bag of wax Lydia gotten for him, took it to the kitchen, and dumped it into a large bowl that he set on top of a pot of water. The book said the candles needed to be made on the sixth day when the magic was the strongest. He tried to keep his mind on his task, while also thinking about the future. He decided that he would think of date ideas and pack activities for when Stiles got home. He thought of Stiles meeting the new babies, of getting to meet Boyd and Erica’s little girl. He balanced candle wicks in the bottom of moulds and then poured the melted wax in afterwards. He quickly took the ingredients and dumped a tablespoon of each ingredient into the different moulds. Each candle got one of the ingredients, giving him 12 white candles when he was finished. He pictured Stiles making candles, in a kitchen that didn’t exist yet, moulding and forming the wax with his magic instead of the stove and plastic moulds.

 

He took the jars of ingredients and put them in the bag at the front door. He did the same with the candles once they had set, and then tied closed the bag. He went back to his room after that and started plans for a bigger greenhouse. He drew sketches of shelves to hold Stiles’ plants better, to keep them organised and easier to reach, with a sprinkler system built into the frame. He wasn’t sure Stiles would want them, but he could give him the plans anyway. The house was significantly bigger than Stiles’ childhood home had been but smaller than Derek’s. He worried a little, that Stiles would be overwhelmed by the space, but was sure he could convince him that they needed it. All the pack houses were big; it just made it easier when the pack's size fluctuated. He picked a room on the main floor to be an office for Stiles. He knew it was late in the planning to be switching things around, but they’d only have to rearrange the unfinished walls a little. He removed a closet and made a bathroom smaller; he used the extra space to make a good sized storage closet for Stiles to keep ingredients and things.

 

He made himself dinner around four in the afternoon, feeling hungry and tired, but desperate to stay awake. He didn’t really know what the timeline was for the spell if he had gone to sleep too early or gotten up too late in the days before. He fell asleep at his desk before it was even nine o’clock. He woke up long enough to be mad at himself and then move to his bed. He fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, and when he slept he didn’t dream. Derek woke slowly the next morning, calm certainty settled in his chest, which seemed out of place but was welcomed. He got up, showered, and dressed. He had to eat that morning; it was part of the spell, specific and a little confusing. So he did, he ate dry cereal that was Sam’s and drank more coffee over an hour than he normally did in a whole week. He took the last bundle of ingredients, and the large bag he had at the front door and left the loft. He left carefully, making sure he avoided his neighbours and anyone else that might be around. Cora was in front of their building; far enough away that she wasn’t in his way, but close enough that he would see her as he went. She smiled at him, he nodded at her, and then he was out through the parking lot into the preserve. He made his way through the trees slowly, keeping off of the main trails, and to the harder to navigate places.

 

It took him longer to get the graveyard with the way he travelled, but he figured it was better than running into someone and not being able to say anything. There was a section of the graveyard that was still unused, left open for more family members as they died and were buried. He set his bag down there; it was a place large enough to set up the ritual. Honestly, after all he’d done to get to this point; this part was what worried him the most. He dug into the bag, retrieving a large bag of crushed chalk, the bags of ingredients, and 12 obsidian bowls. He carefully separated the chalk into the bowls and—then like the candles before—he separated the ingredients into the bowls. He took the rest of the chalk and made a large circle on the ground, wondering briefly what made circles the best shape for magic. Then, he set the bowls around the edges of the circle, balancing the matching candles in each bowl. Once everything was in place, he took the iron plate and placed it in the middle of the circle, or as close to the middle as he could. Then, he took the last bundle of ingredients and lit it on fire.

 

The fire consumed this bundle quickly; swallowing it whole seconds after it had been lit. The smoke wrapped around him, swirling around his head and clinging to him. He poured the last of the rose water over the iron plate and left it in the middle of the circle. He took a step away from the plate, swaying as he went. His head started buzzing like it was full of bees, and his mouth felt like it was full of cotton. He shook his head, trying to clear the buzzing, but instead he stumbled to the side. He planted his feet on the ground and tried to steady himself. The world refused to stop spinning, and after a minute Derek collided with the ground. He panicked, pushing himself up, desperate to see if the line of chalk was still in place. His hands slide through the grass, digging into mud that he didn’t think had been there a moment before. “Awe, babe,” a voice said from beside him. He snapped his head to the side, the world spun again, but there was Kate. She stood at the edge of the circle made of dark shapes and flames. There was something else, a crunching near him, and when he looked there was something else. The creature was towering and dark, made of shadows and smoke. There was another one, made of bright light and cracking stone. There were more and more creatures surrounding him like nightmares made real.

 

They were all saying things, softly at first, but then they were getting louder and louder until they were screaming at him. He couldn’t understand anything; it was loud but like the noise in a busy mall. There were conversations overlapping each other, so loudly he could feel it press against him. There was darkness too and for a second Derek thought of the eclipse and a desperate need to do something. He suddenly couldn’t remember where he was, or what was going on. Just that there was creature circling him, voices shouting at him, hands reaching through the darkness for him. He closed his eyes and slammed his fist against the ground. There was water now, pouring down around him, coating his skin and body. He needed to make the world stop spinning. He pushed himself up to his feet, took a step forward, and felt his foot collide with something. He blinked a few times and looked down at the iron plate. Suddenly, all he could smell were roses, thick and cloying.

 

He turned and grabbed the large bag; yanked out three robes each decorated with a single bell and laid them out in the circle, and then he dug out a lighter and a stick of hawthorn wood. He stood holding both with shaking hands and flicked the lighter over and over until the flame finally appeared. He held the stick to the flame, silently begging the stick to catch. When it finally did he ran desperately around the circle lighting each candle as he went. There was a creature behind each candle, reaching for him and screaming his name, but they never touched him. He stumbled, praying to any fucking god that would listen, that the candles stayed lit as he went. It was raining, he thought, still pouring over him and soaking the ground under his feet. He felt himself slip, collapse again, and roll painfully along the ground. He lifted his head again; the stick was out now, lying on the ground next to him. He counted each candle with a flame and almost cried when he realised they were all lit and burning. He spun around, feet kicking up mud and grass, he grabbed the bag he had carried everything in and threw it out of the circle. There was a flash of lightning and thunder rumbled through the sky around him.

 

“Face them,” someone said. Derek spun around, looking for the new voice, the one that was distant but broke through the screaming around him. “Face them!” the voice screamed. Derek launched back to his feet, stumbled again, and dove at the closest nightmare. He crashed to the ground through the shadows, and when he turned around, all 12 were gone and he was alone. There was another crash of lightning and the ground in front of Derek exploded. He felt the electricity race through the ground under him, making his body hair stand on end. Suddenly, he could smell the rose water again, floating through the air like someone’s perfume. Then, there was a soft ringing of a bell caught by the breeze. He watched as the robes lifted from the ground like they were slowly filling with bodies. They bubbled and shifted until three women stood in front of him. Derek stared up at them, as one of them pulled her hood down and smiled widely at him.

 

“Sentimental,” she said again. Derek stared at her for a second, mouth slightly open, and then he rolled onto his side and threw up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, I really love Derek Hale, and I think that he should be told that he's amazing all the time. Which is why I keep doing it in my story. He's just gotta know. It's really important.
> 
> Look at me, getting a chapter out earlier than normal! I had a few good writing days.


	8. Chapter 8

There was suddenly someone dragging him to his feet, hands roaming over him to check him for injuries. He blinked his eyes a few times, clearing the fog that had formed in his vision. There was dark hair in front of him and green eyes looking at him, and he realised that Laura was holding him up. He stumbled back from her, shaking his head to clear the haze and this time it worked. He stared at her, unsure why she was there, or what she was even doing. “You’re fine,” she said. He realised he must have passed out when he had fallen. He nodded his head and turned back to the circle and there were three women there. Each one wearing one of the cloaks he had laid out, and each one was staring at him. He opened his mouth to say something, but like every time before snapped, it closed and just stared at them. One of the women moved to the edge of the circle, she was much older than the other two. Her skin was lined with age, hair long gone grey, but her eyes were still bright.

 

“I am Atropos,” the woman said. The youngest looking women walked to the edge of the circle next, she was holding a long intricate staff in her hand. She placed the bottom of it on the outside of the circle and pulled it back toward her. The line of chalk broke, making the air around them ripple and pulse, and then all three stepped over the line.

 

“I’m called Lachesis,” she said.

 

“And I am Clotho,” the last woman said. Derek recognised her; she was the woman from his apartment, the one who had kept showing up. She smiled at him, skin wrinkling around her eyes as she did. “We are the Moirai,” she added.

 

Derek thought he should greet them, thank them for actually coming, or really do anything at all. Except that he was suddenly unsure and afraid, and as he opened his mouth, something in the back of his mind whispered. _‘Say nothing.’_ So Derek swallowed his words of greeting and bowed his head to them instead.

 

“Derek?” Laura said next to him. He straightened, looked at his sister and then back to the women.

 

“Do you not speak, boy?” Atropos snapped. A frown formed on her face, exaggerating her wrinkles, and making her look even older.

 

“They’re gods, Derek! You can’t just ignore them,” Laura snapped. Derek looked at her again, she looked scared and a little angry, but Derek just shook his head. He didn’t know how long he had to be silent for, but he was sure he would know when he could speak again. He turned back to look at Atropos and shook his head at her as well.

 

“Very well then,” she said and looked over at her sisters. They shared a meaningful look, one Derek didn’t understand. The kind of look siblings or close friends shared, the kind that was a whole conversation in seconds.

 

“Go home, eat, and rest,” Lachesis said suddenly. “We will call you when it is time; do not come to us sooner.” Derek furrowed his brow and frowned at them, but Laura had him by the arm and was dragging him away from the women. She pulled him back to the trees where other pack members were standing. His mother was there and clung to him as soon as he was close enough to reach. He pulled back from her and stared at her face, trying to figure out how to ask her why she was there.

 

“We were so worried about you Derek,” she said. “The storm started and we had to come make sure you were alright.”

 

“The book didn’t say anything about a storm,” Laura said. Derek wanted to tell them the book didn’t say a lot, about a lot of things; instead, he just shrugged his shoulders. His mother had him by the arm now, and she was leading him back toward the compound. Cora and Sam were there too, hovering nearby, looking worried. Peter, Malia, Stephen, and a few others were there too. The people who were home, Derek guessed. He let his mother lead him through the trees and into the house, let her push him into a chair in her kitchen, and let her make him something to eat. Erica was there now too, holding Aella on her hip, with Emily at her side.

 

“I’m glad you’re okay,” she said in a voice softer and kinder than he had ever heard come from Erica. Her smile was much the same way, softer and kinder than he ever remembered seeing on her before. He smiled back at her and shrugged his shoulders again.

 

“You need to eat and then sleep,” Talia said to him. She ran her hand through his hair and smiled warmly at him. She made a huge pot of pasta, with too much garlic in the sauce, and noodles just on the wrong side of al dente. Derek watched her standing at the stove top, and in the blink of an eye, she was at the table, serving everyone. Derek stared at her, but she smiled like nothing was wrong, and he was sure he had seen it wrong. Everyone ate without complaint and it tasted so much better than anything Derek had eaten in the last week. Everyone talked through lunch, chattering away excitedly about whatever came to mind. There were pauses, where the whole room would fall silent, and someone would ask Derek a question. He would nod, or shake his head, or shrug his shoulders in response. He could see irritation growing on his families faces. Then, they would slip back into their original conversation and Derek seemed forgotten. It was peaceful then, Derek thought, and he let that feeling seep into his skin.

 

He helped his mother clean up, and then he collapsed onto the living room sofa when they finished. He stretched out across it and a minute later Emily was up next to him, settling down too. He looked down at her, raised an eyebrow, and made a face. She shifted a little until she was comfortable and said, “time for a nap.” Derek kept looking at her, she had curled up with him before to sleep, but it had been more than a year since it last happened. “I always nap with auntie and since you’re gonna be my alpha someday, I should nap with you too,” she explained. Derek smiled a little, feeling silly but pleased with her. When she realised he was smiling now she scooted in closer, settled against his side, and seemed content to be there. Derek shifted just a little, making Emily huff as he did, then he was settled too.

 

He stared up at the ceiling, letting himself think about what was happening. This… wasn’t what he thought would be happening now. He felt like he was going to vibrate out of his skin, he could still feel a low hum of panic running through him. This, lying on the couch in his mother’s living room, felt anticlimactic. He wanted desperately to get up and go find the women in the preserve. To help them search for whatever it was they needed, but… they had told him to rest. They had told him he needed to, so here he was. He wanted more information, even if it meant that he would have to try and do more magic.

 

Derek could feel the exhaustion in his bones, settled deep inside of him, but he couldn’t seem to fall asleep. So, he thought about Stiles doing magic, the way he had talked about it, the way he had said, _“I keep it close to my skin.”_ Derek thought Stiles talked about his magic like Derek talked about his wolf. A thing inside of them, that was hidden away, but so much part of them there was nothing else they could do. Stiles talked about his magic like it was another being, and Derek thought, it probably was. It was a god, he thought, or at least some of it was. He closed his eyes and thought about Stiles using his magic in ways he’d never seen done before. He remembered Stiles sitting at his kitchen table, coffee in one hand and the other bouncing in the air like he was conducting an orchestra. Stiles hadn’t even been watching what he was doing, but the dishes from the night before and breakfast were bouncing through the air. They dunked and raised themselves in the sink, and then floated without dripping, into the correct places in the dishwasher.

 

He remembered Erica leaning into the kitchen and saying, _“Hey Mickey, are you ready to go yet?”_ He remembered Stiles laughing at her, and spending the next few hours switching between whistling The Sorcerer's Apprentice and Night on Bald Mountain. The second song, one that Derek didn’t realise anyone knew off by heart, but Stiles did. Stiles knew a lot of things, that Derek didn’t think anyone would know, and for no real reason, he loved that about him.

 

“Are you thinking about Stiles?” Emily asked almost an hour after she had last spoken. Derek shifted on the couch again, so he could look down at her, and then nodded once he was sure she was looking at him. “Do you really miss him?” Derek nodded again and smiled at her, he tried to make it look soft and caring, in a way that a seven-year-old would understand. “Mister Doctor Deaton says that Stiles is dead and you shouldn’t be messin’ with the dead. I heard Jamie say it too when he was talkin’ with my mum. Said, dead is dead, gotta leave him in the ground.” Derek watched Emily talk; she was still lying next to him, waving her hands animatedly as she spoke. He wanted to correct her, tell her that Stiles wasn’t in the ground at all. He… he was somewhere else, but he wasn’t really dead at all. “They said you couldn’t leave well enough alone. Couldn’t do what was best and just leave well enough alone. Daddy said you gotta get your head on right. Need to be put in your place, remember who is next in line. Not going on and on about taking over. Daddy said you’re not good for that.” Derek shifted a little, so he was almost sitting up. Emily didn’t seem to notice that he moved, and after a few minutes she suddenly looked at him and said. “Is your voice broken now?”

 

Derek slow shook his head at her as Peter came into the living room. “There you are,” he said and lifted Emily off the couch. “What are you doing?” he asked.

 

“Talking to Derek,” she answered.

 

“Are you talking now?” Peter asked looking over at him. Derek sat up the rest of the way and shook his head. “Is there a reason why? It seems unnecessary since you’ve managed to summon them.” Derek nodded his head and then shrugged his shoulders. Peter huffed at him and shook his head.

 

“It’s silly,” Emily said.

 

“Very silly. How are we meant to do anything, if you won’t say anything?” Derek stared at Peter, because he didn’t understand what Peter meant and because he wasn’t sure what Emily had said. Did the pack really say those things? It didn’t make sense for a seven-year-old to come up with that information by herself. “How are we meant to help you with anything?” he repeated. Derek slowly climbed off the couch, watching Peter as he went. Peter snapped his head to the side and then back to Derek, sharp and painful looking. “How are we meant to help you?” he shouted. Derek took a step away from him, bumping into Laura who was suddenly behind him.

 

“You need to say something, Derek!” she snapped voice hard and angry. Her fingers dug into his shoulders and she growled low and dangerously in her throat. Derek yanked away from her, turned to look at her, and there was darkness in her eyes. It wasn’t unlike the darkness that had settled there when Apollo had taken control of them. He stepped away from her, moved past Peter and Emily, and went back into the kitchen.

 

“You need to eat and then sleep,” his mother said as he stepped into the room. She was back at the stove, the huge silver pot back in place and full of water. She snapped from her spot at the stove to standing at the table again. She dished out the food a second time, but now was dumping pile after pile of pasta noodles onto an empty table. He reached for her, felt his voice in his throat, and words bubbling up and wanting out.

 

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Erica said. She was suddenly standing beside the chair Derek had been sitting in. Aelle was on her hip again, she hung loosely at her mother’s side, limbs limp and unmoving, but she was staring at him. Her eyes were solid black and watching him, blinking slowly and strangely, like a video game character that hadn’t been correctly programmed. A smile broke out over Aelle’s face, and she laughed high pitched and horrifying.

 

“How are we meant to help you?” Peter shouted.

 

“You need to say something, Derek!” Laura snapped. He looked back into the living room and they had turned to face him. They were following him with their eyes; their bodies’ were rigid, limbs stiff and unmoving. When Derek moved, they snapped suddenly and awkwardly to new positions to follow him. He ran from the kitchen, down the front hallway and to the front door, but then he remembered what the Moirai had said to him. Did leaving the house count as going to them? He turned around, Peter was behind him, Emily still held up in one arm. His hand was extended toward him, and Derek ducked around it. He raced past his family, upstairs, and into his old bedroom. He slammed the door behind him, pressing himself against the door to hold it closed. He didn’t know if it would make a difference, or if they could just appear in his room like the door wasn’t there at all. There was a thump and then a slam on the other side of the door as someone threw themselves against it. Derek could feel the vibration of it run through his body. He wanted to scream at them, tell them to stop it, that they were going to hurt themselves or him, but he couldn’t. He screwed his eyes shut and took a deep breath in. He wished he had run to the basement, to the soundproof panic room, where there were locks and silence.

 

“Derek,” someone called and his heart started pounding against his chest. The voice was floating and soft, warm and kind, and female. “Derek,” she said again. “Come on now.” Derek snapped his eyes open, gasped for air, and realised he wasn’t in his room anymore. He was lying on the ground in the preserve, alone except for the three women in the circle. He sat bolt upright, heart pounding in his chest, and he stared at them.

 

“Congratulations,” one of them said. “How are you feeling?” Derek stared at them, mouth closed, and fists dug into the grass at his sides. The sisters exchanged looks but seemed pleased by his silence.

 

“A devoted man,” the one who, in his dream, had introduced herself as Atropos said.

 

“A final dream,” Clotho said leaning down in front of him. Her dark hair hung around her shoulders, and she smiled at him.

 

“To test you in front of our eyes,” Lachesis said. “You may speak now, Derek Hale.” Derek closed his eyes again, focused on the idea of speaking, and waited until something said, _“It’s okay now.”_ He opened his eyes and looked up at them again.

 

“Thank you,” he said first, his voice cracking as he did. “And I’m fine.” Clotho turned and smiled at her sisters.

 

“He’s a sweetie,” she said. “He gave me soup,” she added.

 

“Why could I see you before the spell was complete?”

 

“You’ve spent the last week breathing in opium poppies,” she answered.

 

“That doesn’t explain you,” he said.

 

“I was checking on you,” she answered.

 

“It’s a test,” Lachesis said impatiently, but Derek wasn’t sure if it was directed at him or Clotho. “We must test dedication. We must be sure that you are worthy of the requested aid.”

 

“It’s not every day we are called here,” Clotho said. “Much less asked to tear a hole in reality.”

 

“Will you?” he asked as he got to his feet.

 

“Derek!” Laura shouted from behind him. He tensed when he heard her, turning slowly to see her, his mother, and Boyd coming through the trees.

 

“They are your family, the real ones, not the images from your dreams,” Atropos said. “They will not harm you.” Laura reached him first, throwing her arms around him, and hugging him tightly. She barely seemed to notice the women, but when she did she yanked away from him and apologised.

 

“We came when the storm started,” she said softly. Derek nodded his head at her and then turned back to the women.

 

“Will you?” he asked again.

 

“You have proven yourself worthy of our help,” Atropos said.

 

“What needs to be done now?” he asked.

 

“Derek!” Laura shouted. The women looked at her; they looked a little surprised by her shout.

 

“What?” he snapped and turned back to her again.

 

“You need to drink something! You need to eat and sit the fuck down!” she snapped.

 

“It wouldn’t be a bad thing,” Clotho said from behind him.

 

“We cannot continue if you are unwell,” Lachesis said.

 

“I’m fine,” Derek said as he watched them.

 

“You can’t argue with gods, Derek,” Laura said softly.

 

“I damn well can,” he snapped and then he pleaded. “We are so close now.”

 

“A drink will not kill you,” Clotho said.

 

“It might,” Derek answered, mind still focused on his dream.

 

“It will not,” Clotho insisted. “Go, eat something and gather your pack. If you will not rest, return to this spot when you are done.”

 

“How much of my pack?” he asked.

 

“As many as you can,” Lachesis said. The women seemed to speak interchangeably, making Derek looked from one to the next, to the next. Derek could hear his mother already dialling on her phone, stepping back and away as she called someone. “Your pack's connection will strengthen you.”

 

“Go on,” Clotho said. “Eat something for real. Something with a lot of garlic, like the dream, it will help.”

 

“Garlic?” he asked.

 

“A plant that is holy to Hecate… This next task will hurt; retrieving the lost is a painful thing.”

 

“I understand,” Derek answered.

 

“Not yet but you will,” Lachesis said. “Return once you have your pack.” Derek hesitated but Boyd was next to him then, carefully leading him away from the graveyard. They got back to the Hale house, and Derek could already smell food cooking. Layla was in the kitchen, making a meal with garlic in each dish.

 

“Garlic chicken, garlic roast potatoes, garlic bread, and I’ve mixed garlic butter into the vegetables too,” she said. Derek couldn’t help by laugh at that, and he nodded his head at her.

 

“Thank you,” he said softly.

 

“I hope he comes back,” she said after a second. “I hope you get to be the happiest man alive, Derek.” Derek felt his face warm up, and he knew that he had gone completely red when she laughed a little.

 

“Thank you,” he said again.

 

“Go sit down, I’ll bring you food when it’s done,” Layla said.

 

“No, that’s fine. I can help,” he said.

 

“Derek Hale,” she said sternly, “go sit down and I will bring you food when I’m done.” Layla had mastered the _mother_ voice, and Derek shrunk away from her. He went to the living room and sat in one of the chairs, looking at the couch for a minute before deciding against it. The house was mostly silent, but he knew people would start arriving soon. He heard soft footsteps coming down the stairs and toward him. He knew it was Erica before he saw her; Aelle was in the room a second before Erica, waddling across the room toward him. The little girl reached for Derek, so he lifted her off the ground and onto his lap.

 

“Good to see you made it with your pretty face intact,” she said, sounding amazingly normal. She was smirking at him, none of the strange softness to her that she had in his dream.

 

“Not out of the woods yet,” Derek said. Aelle settled against Derek’s chest, curling in against him, and yawning a little.

 

“I’ve been trying to get her to do that for an hour,” Erica said.

 

“Kids just like me better,” Derek said which was true. The pups had always loved Derek; he was the favourite babysitter and favourite person to climb on. Evan was the next one to come into the living room, a year and a half older than Aelle, but still small. He climbed up onto Derek as well, mumbling about it being the most comfortable place, and then he too was sleeping on him. Erica made a cooing noise and then was off to find something. She returned with a camera and her phone, snapping pictures he didn’t really want to be taken, and then sending them off before he could say anything at all.

 

“Stiles phone is going to blow up when he gets back,” Erica said as she stuffed her phone into her pocket.

 

“What?” Derek asked.

 

“Oh, I text him all the time,” she answered and wavered her hand at him. She settled herself on the couch across from him.

 

“What?” Derek asked again.

 

“I miss him,” she said. “He was pretty much all of our best friend at some point. Most of us still text him, he’s even still in the group text we have. I send him pictures, updates, and things. He never answers, I figure there’s no cell signal there, but he had his phone on him when he went.”

 

“I didn’t know,” Derek said slowly. He suddenly felt angry with himself, for never thinking about doing that himself.

 

“It’s fine. We don’t even know if his phone will make it, but if it does, he’ll have two and a half years of updates. I plan on quizzing him,” Erica said.

 

“I bet he’d like that,” Derek said and Erica nodded.

 

“He would and he’d do well too,” she said. “I think the first thing I’m going to do when he gets back is punch him. Then, when things have calmed down, make him go with me for manicures.”

 

“Manicures?” Derek asked. He watched Erica twist on the couch until she was stretched out.

 

“We used to go all the time. The first time was a joke thing, but he likes having his nails painted,” she answered. Derek smiled, he had never seen Stiles wearing nail polish, but the idea didn’t seem strange or out of character for him. It was just another thing that Derek wanted to live through with Stiles. “What about you?” she asked.

 

“What about me?”

 

“What’s the first thing you’ll do when Stiles is back?” she asked grinning lewdly at him. Derek rolled his eyes, shook his head, but smiled at her.

 

“I don’t know yet,” Derek answered.

 

“Please, like you haven’t’ spent the last two years dreaming of this moment,” she said.

 

“I haven’t,” Derek said softly.

 

“What?”

 

“I haven’t really let myself dream about this moment. I’ve just… it’s been more abstract than that,” Derek confessed. Erica frowned but shrugged her shoulders.

 

“Guess everyone does things differently,” she said. Layla was in the room a minute later, a plate in hand for Derek. Erica got off the couch and carefully pulled Aelle from her spot on Derek’s chest.

 

“I’ll trade you,” Layla said. “Evan for the food.” Derek nodded, lifting Evan off up with one arm and taking the plate with his other hand. Layla took Evan, smiled, and disappeared back into the kitchen. Derek ate his food, while Erica ranted about the price of daycare, and more pack members arrived. Some of them took food, others just filtered in around them, until there wasn’t any more room. Different pack members pulled Derek aside; they pulled him close, told him they were glad he was okay and before he knew it, it was evening. The day was gone and he panicked that he had taken too long.

 

“You need the moon, to summon Hecate,” Deaton said when Derek voiced his worry. He was surprised the emissary was there, he had thought, that Deaton wouldn’t want to be part of this. Deaton turned from Derek for a second and lifted a basket up and show it to him. “For the Fates,” he said. Inside the basket was wine, honey, and eggs that had been dyed bright red.

 

“An offering?” Derek asked.

 

“Your mother told me, that you wanted to give them sometimes, I figured you wouldn’t have the time to put it together yourself,” Deaton explained.

 

“Thank you,” Derek said softly and Deaton smiled at him. It was soft and felt a little out of place, but Derek was glad all the same.  

 

“We should go now,” Deaton said and gestured to the door. Talia made sure everyone was there, and then the pack followed Derek through the preserve; some of them shifted, some of them didn’t. Even the pups were carried and encouraged along the paths through the trees. Derek had led a few pack runs before, when the moon was full and the itch to run was too much. This almost felt like that, but it also brought pictures of the biblical Exodus to his mind and made him feel uneasy. The women were at the entrance to the graveyard when they arrived. They seemed pleased by the amount of the pack that had shown up. They let Derek pass by them, but made the pack wait on the other side of the fence. “A barrier has been put in place; the fence is what we used as a guide. To keep your pack safe,” Clotho said.

 

“This is the part that could kill me, isn’t it?” Derek asked.

 

“Yes,” Atropos answered. The sisters took him back to the opening in the graveyard, where the remnants of the summoning spell were gone. There were flowers there instead, hundreds and hundreds of flowers, and as Derek got closer he knew why this might kill him. He could see some of them, blooming wolfsbane flowers, branches of deadly nightshade berries, and bunches of yellow purple blooms of mandrake flowers. There were more colourful plants that Derek didn’t know the names of, bunches of them tied together with vines. “You must be bound,” she told him.

 

“In poison,” he said more to himself than her.

 

“It is… unfortunate, but Hecate’s speciality falls in poisons and cures,” she said.

 

“Right,” he said. He looked up at the moon, which seemed to be moving through the sky too quickly. He tried to shake the tension from his shoulders, but when he found he couldn’t, he gave up.

 

“Make him take his shirt off!” Erica shouted from beyond the fence and Derek groaned. He turned to look over at her and she was grinning widely at him. He couldn't bring himself to smile back at her, but he knew she was only trying to make him less nervous. She was standing close to the fence, closer than almost anyone else. Boyd was holding Aelle, who looked confused and sleepy, he wondered if she would start crying soon.

 

“They don’t seem too worried about the flowers,” Derek said.

 

“They cannot see them,” Lachesis said.

 

“So it’s going to look like I’m bound by nothing?” he asked.

 

“They will see vines,” Lachesis answered.

 

“They might watch me die and not even know what’s happening?” he asked.

 

“It’s part—”

 

“Part of the spell,” Derek said.

 

“Suffering helps connect to the lost,” Atropos said.

 

“Okay,” he mumbled. “Would taking my shirt off help? If more of the plants touched my skin?”

 

“In this instance, it makes no difference,” Atropos answered. “We will bind you like a man and like an animal.” Derek’s stomach clenched painfully but he nodded his head slowly. Lachesis lifted ropes of ivy from the ground, flowers intertwining through the plant. She offered the vines slowly to Clotho, who carried them over to Derek.

 

“Your hands,” she said and Derek lifted them. He raised them, palms up toward her like he was accepting a gift. Clotho hesitated and then she met his eyes and stared into them. “You are not an animal, Derek Hale.”

 

“Thank you,” Derek said because he didn’t know what else to say.

 

“First as a man,” Lachesis said and carved symbols into the mud as she spoke. Clotho wrapped the vines around Derek’s wrists, looping them over themselves. They didn’t hurt now, but the longer the pollen settled on his skin, the more it would burn at him. She tied the vines tightly, and Derek could feel burrs tearing small wounds into his skin. The moon reached the centre of the sky above them and it seemed to still there. Its light poured and pooled around Derek, lighting him up against the encroaching darkness.

 

“Shift,” Atropos snapped. Her back was to him, standing a foot away from her sisters, staring off at something Derek couldn’t see. “Shift and call to the moon.” Derek relaxed in the binding, let himself shift to his beta form, and then threw his head back and howled.

 

“And then as an animal,” Lachesis said. The ground under him rumbled, and a second later another vine was thrown around his neck. His howl cut off as the vine tightened, making someone in the pack howl mournfully. The wind suddenly picked up, tearing leaves from trees, and lifting the flowers from their piles on the ground. The vine wrapped around his neck another time, sliding slowly as it tightened. Derek gasped for his next breath and at the pain suddenly burning through his neck. The flowers and plants started colliding with Derek, sending bursts of pollen and petals out around him. He wanted to duck his head down, avoid the poisons, but the vine around his neck held tightly.     

 

“Howl again!” Atropos shouted at him. Derek choked on the next howl; it was weak and wavering. Atropos turned around as he tried and from her cloak produced a pair of silver black shears. She walked toward him slowly, “again,” she said so Derek howled again. As this one came, broken and pathetic, she slashed the shears down his chest. Derek choked on his breath, and he heard the pack moving now. He could hear screaming and crying, and he was terrified they would come over the fence and to him. The sisters didn’t seem to notice it, and a second later Lachesis was in front of him. Her hands pressed against the wound, and then slipped inside his chest. He felt something tug and drag through him, like in his dream weeks before, and then she was stepping away from him and offering something to Clotho. The vines around his neck were cut next, his head dropped forward against his chest, and he had to focus on his neck to make it heal.

 

He could see a long blood coated string coming from his chest; the sisters pulling it slowly from inside him. Atropos stood beside him, and after a moment she cut through the vines around his wrists. Then she moved away again, she walked down past her sisters, running her fingers along the blood-soaked string. She gathered the blood on her hand, finally stopping in front of her sisters, she reached up and she smeared the blood through the sky. The sky darkened further, seemingly tinted red by Derek’s blood. Then she pulled her shears through the air where the blood hung. There was a ripple and a pulse of energy, and suddenly all the plants around Derek were ripped from the air and the ground and pulled through the cut in reality. The vines around him went last, snaking out from around him, and then vanishing through the cut. There was a thump and a bang, and suddenly the tear grew. Clotho pulled the red string from Derek’s chest, and let it slip from her fingers and the end disappeared through the tear. It rippled through the sky and suddenly, it looked like a huge simmering mirror with the thread in the middle.

 

Everything stopped, the world went silent, even the frantic sounds of the pack trying to get over or around the fence were gone. The wind died out and everything seemed to slow down. “It’s done,” Lachesis said, offering Derek her hand to help him stand up. The pack was rushing to him now, whatever barrier that kept them back before was clearly gone. They closed in around him, but no one touched him, scared and unsure what it would do to the portal. The mirror rippled like water in front of them, moving like waves in water on a windy day. There was a shape in the mirror suddenly, a person coming closer and closer. He couldn’t see the person; they were a silhouette made of total darkness. They had their hand up, holding the string and following the path back to them. Derek felt the blood rushing through his head making him feel dizzy. The person was on the other side of the portal now, right at the edge of the mirror. The hand not on the string reached forward and pressed against the mirror, fingers splayed open and wide. The portal pushed forward around the hand, getting closer and closer to the pack, and then it burst open and the person fell from the portal.

 

Derek’s heart felt like it stopped, as the portal shattered and dissolved into the air around it. Stiles hadn’t come through the portal, but as the man on the ground rose to his feet the pack rushed to him, and Derek couldn't be upset. Matthew looked wildly around the graveyard, and a second later Talia was on him. She wrapped her arms around and was sobbing into his neck. “Oh my god!” she said over and over. The pack kept crowding in around them, shouted and excited, but Derek couldn't make his feet move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
>  
> 
> Another shout out to lrafael98 who guessed my plan for this chapter before this story was even posted.


	9. Chapter 9

Derek watched his family, he thought about rushing to his father, thought of being part of it, but he couldn’t move. His feet were rooted to the ground and he was sure, in that moment, that he would never move again. He was a statue built in the graveyard to watch over the dead, and never stray from that path. The red string that had come from his chest was gone now, vanishing with the portal. The wound on his chest had closed, and the only evidence it had been there at all, was his torn bloodied shirt. The fates had moved away from the pack and where the portal had been. They clustered around Derek, watching him with careful eyes. “It’s done,” Atropos said echoing her sister. She reached out and placed her hand on him, her fingers curling around his arm. Her fingers were warm, almost burning hot against his skin, but Derek didn’t move away from her. 

“Right,” Derek said. 

“It seems your mate has changed his plans,” Clotho said softly. 

“Yeah,” Derek said. “Yeah, that’s something he would do.” Derek kept looking at the pack, watching as Matthew was dragged into hug after hug. So many of them were crying, Sam was close by but far enough away that Matthew probably hadn’t seen him yet. Talia was holding his hand, never letting go of it. Derek was forgotten and he was glad for it. He knew if they came to him, if they said anything to him, he would break down. He would be unable to stop the tears and angry that were battling in his chest.

“Gods are strange,” Clotho said.

“I guess that explains Stiles,” Derek said slowly, and then, “can I do it again? At the next eclipse?” 

“Yes,” Clotho said but she sounded unsure. She looked at Atropos who looked away from her, and tugged her hand from Derek’s arm. “But… it isn’t easy to get gods to agree to help you more than once. Especially in such a short amount of time. The next change is in a year, only a few weeks for the gods. Some won’t have the power to give again, and others would walk more offerings or gifts…” Derek turned to look at them and he managed a weak smile.

“Right, of course,” he said and he was finally moving. He lurched forward a step, and then he made his way to the edge of the graveyard. He didn’t go to his family; he didn’t even look at them now. He went to where Deaton had left the basket of offerings. Then, he turned around and went back to them. He held the basket out in front of him. “It’s not much, but I wanted to thank you for helping.”

“We have been paid,” Atropos said.

“It’s not payment… just a thank you. For even trying,” Derek explained.

“It didn’t turn out how you wanted,” Lachesis said softly as she looked at the basket. 

“Things… don’t always go the way you want them too,” Derek said. “It doesn’t change the fact that you helped me.” Clotho took the basket from him and cradled it in her arms. 

“Thank you,” she said.

“No, thank you. Thank you so much,” he said and he meant it. “Do I need to help you get back?” he asked, blinking rapidly to try and keep tears from his eyes.

“You’ve done enough,” Atropos said. “We can return on our own. The way home is always easier.” 

“Thank you,” he said again. “Thank you.” He thought he would keep saying it if something else didn’t happen, because it was the only thing he could focus on. The sisters looked from one to the next again and slowly they nodded to one another. He stepped back from them like he was making room for them to vanish in an instant, and Atropos did. The cloak dropped to the ground in a heap and the jingle of a bell, and Derek couldn’t help but just stare at it. 

“A favour, for your offering,” Lachesis said and then she vanished as well. The second cloak hit the ground, next to the first one, with the same rustle of fabric and the jingle of a bell.

“What?” he asked turning to Clotho.

“A favour,” Clotho repeated, “to repay your kindness. Not what you wanted, but all we can give.” And then, she too was gone. Derek stood in front of the pile of cloth and then nodded his head numbly. He didn’t understand what they meant, but he would take a favour from gods. Part of the pack was behind him suddenly, or maybe they had been there the whole time, and he hadn’t noticed them. He really didn’t know. He turned to them, the group… his group stood around him. Even Cora was there, glancing between him and their father. Erica’s eyes were red and puffy, makeup streaking her cheeks and hands from where she had wiped the tears away. 

“I’m sorry,” Derek said. “I’m so sor—”

“Don’t you dare,” Lydia snapped. “Don’t you dare start that.” 

“It wasn’t your fault,” Scott said. “Matthew said Stiles sent him back instead.” Derek looked past Scott to the pack; they were slowly leaving the graveyard, some glancing back at Derek and smiling. His parents were going too, his mother dragging Matthew as he looked back toward Derek, looking unsure when he met Derek’s eye. Derek looked back at Cora; she looked antsy but was desperately trying to be supportive.

“Go on,” Derek said. “Cora, you don’t need to stay here.”

“Are you going to be okay?” she asked but she was stepping away.

“I’ll be fine,” he said. Cora nodded at him, without making eye contact and was sprinting across the graveyard to follow the pack home. 

“You’re lying,” Malia said and frowned at him

“I’m not, I’ll be fine,” he repeated. 

“Come back to the house,” Erica said her voice heavy and breaking. “I want ice cream.” She was holding Aelle in her arms, clutching her close to her body.

“I need… I need to think,” Derek said slowly. “I think I’ll stay here for a while.”

“No,” Boyd answered and Derek raised his eyebrows at him. “You need your pack right now and I’m not going to let you just sit alone this time. I let you do that when Stiles first disappeared, and it didn’t help. This time, you’re sitting with us, even if it’s in silence.” Derek stared at Boyd for a second, and then slowly nodded his head. Erica reached out one of her hands and grabbed one of Derek’s. She laced their fingers together and stared yanked him after the rest of the pack. Derek went with her, with the others around him, and he felt nothing in that moment. There should have been some happiness, some sadness, anger or anything at all. But there wasn’t. There was an empty echoing feeling in his chest, and a desire to sink to the ground and not move. 

Jackson and Lydia led the way back to the house, Jackson glancing back over his shoulder every few minutes like he thought Derek might disappear if he didn’t. Isaac and Boyd walked just behind them and just arms reach ahead of Derek, each silent but a comfortable presence. They made their way to a real walking trail, one that twisted through the trees but was easy to walk along. Erica held onto Derek tightly and he knew that she was still crying. He could hear it from more of them, soft hitching breaths and broken almost silent sobs. Malia was on his other side, the back of her hand brushing against his when they swung as they walked. Allison and Scott followed behind them, surrounding Derek protectively. No one said anything and he was glad for it, not wanting to talk about it, not yet. They took a path that wound through the preserve, making them take almost an hour longer than the rest of the pack to get home. When they arrived at the compound, Derek could hear music playing. It was… a celebration and why wouldn’t it be? Why wouldn’t they celebrate the return of a pack member, regardless of which one it was?

There was food cooking again, people talking softly, but he didn’t listen to hear what they were talking about. Matthew was standing at the edge of the backyard, the pack surrounding him, and Talia holding his hand like a lifeline. He looked back over his shoulder, and when he saw Derek he slipped away from the group. He stopped only long enough to kiss Talia furiously and then made his way to his son. “Can I talk to you for a minute?” he asked and Derek nodded. “Alone, if that’s okay, kids,” he added. The others hesitated for a moment and looked to Derek for directions. He nodded at them, and they slowly made their way into the backyard and mixing with the pack. Cora waited longer than the others, long enough to hug her dad and sob against him for a few minutes. Matthew held her tightly, mumbling how happy he was to see her, and how much he loved her. Derek stepped away from them, let them have their moment, before Cora detached herself from him, and went to her mother. Derek stared at his father, and after a second he hugged him. His arms wrapping tightly around him and holding him until it hurt.

“I’m so glad your back,” Derek said, voice cracking as he did. He felt a wave of guilt rush through him, replacing the emptiness completely. “Have you talked to Sam yet?”

“A little. He’s… he’s nervous,” Matthew said. “I’m nervous,” he added. 

“He still blames himself,” Derek said.

“I don’t,” Matthew said. “He wasn’t in control.”

“He found his soulmate, did you he tell you that?” 

“Yes, he said she’s coming back soon, he said,” Matthew said. “I bet explaining a father back from the dead will be a little hard for him.”

“I think he’ll manage,” Derek said. “She’s really nice.” 

“Everyone says so,” Matthew agreed. “Talia told me that you’re taking over for Laura.”

“Yeah,” Derek answered and in front of his father, he felt more inadequate than he ever had before. The feeling of not being good enough was always there, but over time it had faded; now it felt new. “Laura would do a better job, but… the pack wanted it.” 

“You’ll do great,” Matthew said to him.

“Thanks,” Derek mumbled. Matthew reached out and put a hand on Derek’s shoulder.

“Derek, I need to tell you what happened,” Matthew said and Derek looked away from him. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry that I’m the one here now, and not him. I… I should have fought with him more, maybe that would have made it easier.”

“No, it wouldn’t have,” Derek said.

“Stiles told me, that he made a promise,” Matthew said. “He told me, that before he got trapped, he promised Talia that he would bring me back and he did. He found me by mistake, I think, but he found me and he told me that I was coming home. I didn’t know that he wouldn’t be able to come back until later, but he knew the whole time… He told me, that he would get back later, he could always try different things.” 

“He did the right thing,” Derek said softly. “He’ll always do the right thing.” 

“I’m sorry, Derek,” he said. Derek looked back to his father and shook his head.

“I’m not upset that you’re back, I’d never be upset about that. I’ve missed you so much, and mum was so… broken for a while,” Derek said. “Seeing mum smile that way again, and the pack happy this way, it’s worth it.”

“No it’s not,” Matthew said surprising Derek. “When you lost… when the spell was broken when you were a teenager, you almost died. I now you’re doing it all over again. Nothing's worth that.” Derek felt tears in his eyes, and he rubbed them away. 

“I’ll be fine,” he said. “I’m always fine.”

“Derek, you don’t have to be fine all the time. You’re allowed to be said, regardless of—” Matthew said softly, but before he could say anything else the sky light up with lightning and a boom of thunder. They both looked up at the sky, as another flash filled the sky and a boom of thunder rolled over them. “What?” There was another flash and then Derek could hear bells on the wind. Soft jingling bells, caught on the breeze, almost drowned out by the sound of everything else. He turned toward the front yard, where the bells seemed to be coming from, and watched as a bolt of lightning hit the ground and exploded. There was a burst of ground, dirt, and then there was fire. Derek heard the bells again, soft and strange, against the now whipping winds. Derek focused on the fire, where it stood stationary for a moment, and then slowly it warped and turned, becoming human shaped. Derek started towards the fire, stumbling on his own feet in his haste to make it across the short distance. More of the pack was coming around the house too, slowly and curiously moving toward the noise. The fire twisted and wrapped around itself over and over, and then it was a human. 

Derek stopped in front of him, mouth partly open, and breath stuck in his throat. “Stiles,” he choked. Stiles stood in front of him, made of light and smoke, and burning like a wildfire. He seemed to flicker for a second in front of him like he was a hologram. He vanished for a second and then reappeared. 

“Hey Derek,” Stiles said his face breaking into a smile.

“Oh my god,” Derek said taking a shaking step toward him. 

“There are children around,” Stiles said and winked at him. Derek barked out a strange sounding laugh, somewhere between ecstatic and manic, but Derek closed the distance between them. He could feel the heat on his skin, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about it. He threw his arms around Stiles, letting the fire burn at his clothing and skin. “You’re gonna hurt yourself, Der,” Stiles said, but he had wrapped his arms around Derek too.

“I don’t care. It’s been more than two years, Stiles, I don’t fucking care,” he said and pulled away from him for a second. Just long enough to shift and surge forward again and kiss him. He could still smell Stiles, under the smell of burning and hot fire. He could taste him on his tongue, and feel his hands on his sides. 

“I don’t have long,” Stiles said after a minute. “I don’t have… god, I don’t have any time really.” Derek kissed him again until Stiles pulled back again and laughed. 

“I miss you,” Derek said. 

“I miss you too,” Stiles answered. “I’m sorry I didn’t come back. I, I made a promise to your mum. I found your dad just waiting and I couldn’t leave him, I had to do something.” There was a scream behind Derek, high-pitched and excited. Erica raced toward them, Lydia and Scott both close behind her. She threw herself at Stiles, colliding with Derek as she did, only to slip and fall through Stiles. Derek stepped back a little, making more room.

“What the hell?!” Erica shouted.

“Only Derek can touch me, soul connection,” Stiles said. “Erica you look gorgeous. Lyds, Scott… I don’t have time. I’m sorry, I love you guys. You know that right?” 

“Of course,” Lydia answered and Scott just nodded his head. Scott was crying and took a step back. More of the pack was gathering around them, and Boyd was there helping Erica up off the ground. Stiles turned back to Derek and smiled widely at him, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“I just need to find a way to get stronger,” Stiles said. “Once I do that, I’ll find a way home.”

“I’ll do the ritual again in a year,” Derek said.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to get the help to open it,” Stiles confessed looking embarrassed. “I… I don’t know how long it will take me, but I’ll figure something out.”

“Stiles,” another called and Derek knew it was John. He was running, faster than Derek had ever seen, toward them. 

“Dad!” Stiles shouted and stepped toward his dad. 

“What’s happening?” John asked reaching for Stiles.

“You can’t touch me,” Stiles said. “I don’t have enough time to explain, I’ll figure out how to later.” 

“I love you, Stiles,” John said.

“I love you too,” Stiles answered. Stiles flickered in front of them, vanishing for a second and reappearing in front of them. Stiles moved again, this time back toward Derek, closing the distance that had been made. Stiles reached out and grabbed Derek, and Derek did the same. “I promise I’ll figure something out. It’s just gonna take a while; tell Gale she can come back. Tell her Hekabe misses her terribly.” Derek felt his legs give out under him, and he dropped to his knees. His fingers dug desperately into the burning fabric of Stiles’ shirt. 

“Please,” he said hoarsely. “I need you back.” 

“I’ll be back, I just need to find more power,” he said softly cupping the side of Derek’s face. “I love you, Derek. I never said it properly, but I need you to know, that I really love you.” There was an urgency to Stiles' voice and Derek hated it. 

“I love you too,” he said and Stiles took in a sharp breath when he said it. It sounded like he was surprised that Derek had answered him, but for a second the flickering of Stiles body slowed. Derek was suddenly struck with a realisation, as he watched the energy that was Stiles pulse in front of him. He remembered Allison standing in front of Artemis, as Artemis restrung Allison’s necklace. He remembered the way Artemis looked when Allison fired the first arrow toward the pack. He remembered the way Artemis absorbed power from Allison. “I love you and—and I worship you,” Derek said quickly. He could feel his whole face going red, but he didn’t have time to worry about the rest of the pack hearing him. “I’ll always worship you, even after everyone else is gone. Even as I’m dying, I’ll worship you. I’ll pray to you each morning; I’ll go to sleep with your name on my lips and your image in my mind. I’ll fucking build you a shrine and give offerings in your name.”

“Derek,” Stiles said his voice suddenly rough and almost pained. Derek dug his hands into the shirt tighter, yanking Stiles a half step closer to him. 

“I’ll run in the moonlight until I can’t breathe. Everything I do now I’ll do in your name. I’ll be your acolyte; I’ll worship you and praise your image.” Stiles flickered in front of him, and Derek could see that he had started to cry. “And, I’ll do everything in my power to get you back, Stiles. I’ll do it even if I have to burn the world and extinguish hell. I’m going to bring you home, Stiles.” Stiles dropped to his knees in front of Derek now, and grabbed him, pulling him close and kissing him again. His skin burned at Derek’s making it equal parts painful and wonderful, and then Stiles was gone. Derek was sitting on the ground alone, skin healing from the burns, and shirt beyond repair. He didn’t move, didn’t let himself do anything at all. Then, he threw his head back and he howled until he couldn’t anymore. Until his voice broke and faltered in his throat. He felt his body sink lower to the ground, as the pain his in chest dulled to an ache. 

There were footsteps next to him, soft thumps of someone getting closer, mixed with the swish and jingle of heavy fabric and a bell. Then a hand was on his shoulder, and one of the fates was kneeling down next to him. “A favour,” she said. “Not what you wanted, but all we can give.” And then she was gone. Derek could feel the pack around him, staring at him, pitying him, and he wanted to scream at them to leave him alone. Instead, he slowly rose to his feet, turned from where he had been and walked past them. He didn’t stop when Erica reached for him, or when Cora stepped closer to him. He ignored them, went into the main house, and down into the basement. He closed the door to the panic room, slide the lock on this side of the door closed, and screamed. Other people could come into the room if they needed; Talia had keys to unlock the door, no matter which side was locked. He trusted his mother, not to come for him too quickly, to let him do whatever it was he felt he needed to do in silence. 

He could still smell Stiles; still feel him against his lips, his hands on his arms. He could still feel the fire burning at his flesh, making it bubble and blister momentarily. He dropped to his knees and slammed his fists against the ground, over and over until he thought he broke one of them. Then he slumped back on his feet and stared down at his hands like there were answers there. Like if he looked at them hard enough, he’d find some kind of reason for why things worked the way they did. Instead, he watched his hand snap back together properly, and focused on the way the pain faded. He dragged himself to a chair in the corner of the room and tried to curl in on himself. He was too big to sit this way and after a few minutes he shifted and curled up on top of his clothing. 

He had thought he was doing a good job of not getting excited beforehand, of making sure that he wouldn’t be disappointed or hurt by what happened, but obviously, he hadn’t. He couldn’t shake the bad feelings, the disappointment that clung to his heart, or the anger that burned through his limbs, or the guilt. The guilt sat heavily in the pit of his stomach it was caused by failing John, the pack, and Stiles. There was more guilt too, guilt caused by the fact that he wasn’t celebrating his father’s return. He was glad, he really was, but he wasn’t excited like the others were. He would get there, he would find it in himself and be that happy and that excited, but he didn’t have it in him now. No one came from him that night and when he woke from the place he had curled up, it was the following evening. It had almost been morning when Stiles had appeared, but now it seemed like it never happened at all. Derek left the basement, slipped silently out of the house, and ran through the trees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit shorter than I originally planned, but I decided that I'd post it early for you guys. Since the last chapter was a cliffhanger, and I really like this one.


	10. Chapter 10

He dreamt of the future that night and it was as if Stiles was home and they were together again. He could see Stiles moving through an imagined kitchen like he was dancing. His hips swayed to silent music, one hand ran down the page of a book on the counter, and he tapped a beat on the counter top with his other hand. Derek could see a silver lined black ring on Stiles’ finger, light from above glinting off it. Stiles’ nails were painted, Derek noticed, and he wondered if it was because Erica had mentioned it to him. It looked like there were tattoos on the backs of Stiles' hands and running along his fingers, but they were fading. Derek took a step closer to him and thought that maybe the tattoos were fading henna designs. He reached toward Stiles then, holding one hand up, and noticing a similar ring on his own hand. It was silver, or more likely, a white gold band with a white stone ringing the centre of it. Derek wondered if he’d remember this dream well enough to look for these rings when he woke, but Stiles turned then and looked at him. Stiles smiled like nothing in the world was better than seeing him and Derek’s heart leapt into his throat and all he could do was smile back. Stiles looked older than he normally did. There were soft wrinkles around his eyes when he smiled, and a few silver-grey hairs visible near his temples.

 

“Morning,” he said softly and Derek ran to him. He threw his arms around Stiles and lifted him into the air. Stiles laughed a little, letting his arms settle on Derek’s shoulders, and then he leant down and kissed him. The kiss was soft and sweet, with no panic or urgency, it was familiar and loving, and it made Derek’s heart ache wonderfully. “What’s gotten into you?” Stiles asked against his lips. He yanked back a little and looked startled suddenly. He hurriedly asked, “Is it an important day? Did I forget something? Anniversary? Birthday? Bat Mitzvah?”

 

“No,” Derek said and his voice was sleep rough in his throat. “No, I just love you,” he said and Stiles seemed to melt a little. Stiles’ body relaxed against him and slipped just a little in Derek’s arms so he was lower. Derek didn’t want to ask if Stiles knew this was a dream, and maybe, in that moment, didn’t care enough to ask.

 

“Sap,” Stiles said fondly and then kissed him again. Derek wanted to spin in a circle with Stiles there, wanted to drag him away from the kitchen and to their bedroom, wanted to hold him until the world ended and there was nothing but the two of them left. So, he clung to him, face pressed to Stiles' chest, and he breathed slowly. Stiles didn’t seem to mind, running his fingers through Derek’s hair, and humming softly as he did it. Derek didn’t know how long they stood there, but Stiles finally said, “can you put me down? Unfortunately, I have a potion to brew and you have a meeting with Laura in an hour. You should shower and eat before then. She’ll be mad if you’re late again.” Derek squeezed Stiles, just a little tighter, and then let him down the few inches to the ground.

 

“What if I want to cancel and just stay here with you?” he asked. “You brew your spell, and then we can lock ourselves in and not leave for a week.” Stiles grinned at him, winked, and then shook his head sadly.

               

“Laura would kill you or me, who knows, whichever one of us she reaches first. And, I’ve definitely used up my resurrection card. The schedule of an alpha and emissary, it waits for no man… or cuddling. Besides, could you imagine the look on Claudia’s face if we kicked her out to keep ourselves in,” he said and laughed. There was a thump above them, a door opening and closing, and then footsteps thumping down the upstairs hallway. “Speak of the devil,” Stiles said and a minute later a girl appeared in the kitchen doorway. Her hair down around her shoulders, and what Erica called _“A resting murder face. It’s a Hale thing.”_

 

Derek’s breath caught in his throat when he saw her. She looked like both of them; with dark hair, green eyes, and striking features. God that probably meant one of Derek’s family members had been a surrogate for them. She had more of Stiles’ face though, upturned nose, and a smattering of moles and freckles. As soon as she saw her parents her face lit up, and she smiled just a little. There was a mischievous glint in her eyes, that Derek knew, could have come from either family. She clasped her hands behind her back, swayed side to side, and then smiled sweetly at the two of them. “Aba,” she said softly, sounding innocent and guilty all at the same time. Derek knew, in the way that you knew things in dreams, that Aba meant dad in Hebrew and that Stiles had suggested it when she started talking and dubbed Derek to be Dad. Derek raised an eyebrow at her and waited for her to say something else. “Can I spend the night at Sree’s house?”

 

“Sree’s house?” Stiles asked arms crossed over his chest. “I seem to remember that Sree’s parents are on vacation.”

 

“They are, but it’s not a party or anything,” Claudia said. Stiles pursed his lips and seemed to think about it for a minute and then said, in a drawn-out voice.

“I also seem to remember that Sree has an older step-brother, Suman I think, who has just recently come to stay with them.” Claudia winced visibly and Derek tried not to smile when she did.

 

“That’s true,” Claudia said. 

 

“And,” Stiles said, “I’m pretty sure that someone mentioned to me that Sree was going on a trip of her own this month. That she wouldn’t be home until the first week of next month.” Derek watched Claudia deflate a little, her hand coming from behind her back and hanging at her side.

 

“She is,” she said and kicked at the kitchen floor.

 

“So, who would be there?” Stiles asked.

 

“Me and Suman,” she said.

 

“How old is he?” Stiles asked and turned back to the book on the counter. Claudia clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes.

 

“19,” she answered.

 

“And you are?”

 

“15… but I’m almost 16 and he only turned 19 last month!” she answered. Stiles glanced back at her, and then at Derek, but Derek was too busy watching her to notice Stiles. So, Stiles thought for a moment and then said.

 

“Invite him over here.” Claudia squawked indignantly and then shook her head.

 

“What? No way!” she said.

 

“Then, no way,” Stiles said.

 

“Come on! He’s gonna think I’m a weirdo if I tell him to come over!” she said, trying to sound convincing.

 

“Why?” Derek asked.

 

“Because! What kind of kid does that?”

 

“Our kind of kid,” Derek answered. “Besides, why would you want to date a guy who is going to think you’re a weirdo anyway?” Claudia frowned at him and he heard Stiles laugh a little behind him.

 

“It’s not funny Aba!” she snapped.

 

“Are you sure you want to date someone? He’s not even your soulmate,” Derek said.

 

“Everyone dates before they meet their soulmate,” she snapped. “I know you both did!”

 

“We didn’t say you couldn’t date him,” Stiles said slowly. He was pouring a bottle of blue liquid into a jar full of purple flowers. “Just that he should come here, instead of my underage daughter being alone in a house with a boy old enough to vote. He can spend the night, we don’t mind.”

 

“No!” Claudia snapped.

 

“Why?”

 

“Be-because! I don’t want you two listening in on what we talk about!”

 

“Claudia, I could listen in on what you’re talking about if you were at his house,” Stiles said without taking his eyes off his work. Claudia made an exasperated noise and threw her arms in the air. “You can invite him over here, where the two of you can have a lovely evening, or you can stay home. Your call.” Claudia seemed offended by the offer, and she turned and stomped off back to her bedroom. Derek knew she was going to call the boy and ask him over. If he said no, she’d lie and tell them she didn’t invite him.

 

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” Derek asked and Stiles shrugged his shoulders. He put the bottle down on the counter, grabbed a knife and sliced his finger. A few drops of blood fell into the jar, and the whole thing started to glow.

 

“What’s she going to do in a house with an all-powerful Goddess and a hound of God?” he asked and Derek could see him grinning, even though he wasn’t facing him. Derek tilted his head to the side and stepped closer to the Stiles.

 

“Hound of God?” he asked. Stiles screwed a lid onto the top of the jar and started to shake the ingredients together vigorously.  

 

“I know the title makes you uncomfortable, but it’s really not a bad deal, Derek. It’s an honour if anything. If I were you, I’d put it on my resume, tattoo it on my forehead, and introduce myself with it attached. Hello, I’m Derek Stilinski- Hale, Alpha of the Hale pack, husband of Hecate, and Hound of God. Nice for you to meet me,” Stiles rambled.

 

“Stiles,” Derek said, but he wasn’t paying attention. He stopped shaking the jar, opened it and peered inside. He stuck a finger into the jar and scooped out a little bit of glowing blue foam that looked a little like runny whipped cream. He wiped it off his finger and then he closed it up and kept shaking. “I don’t understand,” he said.

 

“Are we going to have this conversation again?” Stiles asked and Derek stepped toward him again.

 

“Yes,” he said.

“I don’t know why you’re so against it! If you just gave me a reason, a real reason instead scrunching your eyebrows together and stalking off, I might understand,” Stiles said.

 

“No, Stiles… I don’t understand, what a Hound of God is?” Derek said. Stiles stopped shaking the jar and put it down on the counter top. He turned to face Derek, his eyebrows were raised and he looked concerned.

 

“Are you feeling okay?” Stiles asked and reached for Derek. He pressed his hand against Derek’s forehead like he’d somehow caught a cold.

 

“What’s a Hound of God, Stiles?” he asked. He grabbed Stiles’ hands with his own and held them tightly. Stiles stared into his eyes like he was trying to figure out if Derek was joking around. When he seemed confident that Derek wasn’t, he led him from the kitchen. He got Derek to sit on the couch in the living room and then stood in front of him. Stiles was gone for a moment, and then came back with a small black bag in hand. He licked his finger, put it into the bag, and then pulled it back coated in blue-black dust. He drew something on Derek’s check and then tapped against it twice. Stiles crouched down in front of Derek and stared into his eyes.

 

“Oh,” Stiles said softly after a minute. Then he was kneeling in front of Derek, and smiling warmly at him. “Oh, Derek,” he said and then leant forward and kissed him softly.

 

“Stiles?” he asked but Stiles just shook his head and kissed him a second time.

               

“Wake up, Derek,” Stiles whispered, reached forward and tapped Derek’s forehead. Derek felt suddenly like he was falling, plummeting from the couch he was on, down away from the world. He watched Stiles vanish from sight above him and then heard his own voice saying.

 

“What’s going on?”

 

“You were time—” Stiles was saying, and then his voice was gone too. Derek’s body flipped through the air, and suddenly he was facing the rapidly approaching ground. He could see the web from his dreams, shifting and changing in front of him. The connections throughout the web exploded with bursts of light, like stars coming to life below him. He threw his arms up in front of his face just before he hit the ground. There was a second of resistance, and then he was underwater. He thrashed against the sudden waves, knocking him back and forth in the darkness. Something grabbed at his ankle and he was dragged down through the waters until there was nothing he could do but pass out.

 

He woke up in his bed, with the morning sunlight pouring into his bedroom. He could hear Sam moving beyond his closed door, could hear the world outside his open window, and all he could do was roll onto his side and stare at the wall. He had slept longer than he normally would, and it bothered him. Both that he had slept in and that he hadn’t slept longer. He could still hear Stiles voice in his head, so he closed his eyes and let the words bounce around. It had been a month now since he had last seen Stiles, two months since he had found the spell to bring Stiles home, and four months since Gale first arrived. Even though Derek tried not to let himself think about it, it was rapidly approaching the three-year mark of Stiles getting trapped. Derek rolled onto his other side, to look over at Gale. She was curled in a nest of blankets, he switched out his shirts for something nicer, and she seemed glad he had. She was watching him, and Derek was sure she looked sad like she didn’t know what to do with him. He had told her that she was welcome to leave, that Hekabe missed her, and that he was so thankful for her help. She had declined and shook her head slowly at him. She had told him there was something more that needed to be done, and she would leave when she felt she was ready.

 

“Do you know what a Hound of God is?” Derek asked softly. He knew a lot about the different species that existed, he had loved knowing about everyone while he grew up. He loved the different cultures and customs had formed around the world, and when he was young he had thought he would travel the world to study them. He had read book after book in his family’s library, until he had finished all the interesting ones and moved onto the city library, and then the internet when it became more convenient. In all of his searching, all of his reading, he couldn’t remember finding a mention of a Hound of God. Gale tilted her head to the side, stared at him for a minute, and then scurried from her bed on his side table onto his bed. Derek didn’t move, just let her run up to him, press her face in close to his and stare into his eyes. Then, she shuffled back away from him again and nodded her head. Derek tossed his blankets away, shifted, and then struggled out of his pyjama pants. He rolled over, shaking out his coat, and then stared at her expectantly.

 

“Where did you hear that name?” she asked.

 

“I dreamt of Stiles last night, he called me a Hound of God,” Derek said.

 

“A gift,” she said, sounding awed by his information.

 

“A gift?” he asked.

 

“You’ve been given a gift, Derek,” she answered. “A Hound of God is a type of werewolf, they are not common creatures. One in a hundred generations. If you are a Hound of God, Derek, there are no limits to your power.”

 

“How do I find out?” Derek asked slowly.

 

“You must speak to your god,” she said.

 

“Stiles is my god,” Derek said. Gale tilted her head to the side and seemed pleased by his answer.

 

“The one who rules over wolves,” she said and shook her head.

 

“I don’t think Artemis or Apollo would be really interested in helping me,” Derek said making Gale huff at him.

 

“They are not the gods of the wolves, but their mother is,” Gale answered.

 

“You think she’ll help me, even though I rejected her son?” he asked.

 

“She is not their real mother, a reborn version of her, like Stiles is of Hecate,” Gale said.

 

“So, she doesn’t care about them at all?” Derek asked.

 

“No, she does care for them, but Apollo doesn’t care for her. He is the original, she is a replacement,” Gale said. “I doubt she knows what has happened. She will be able to explain what a Hound of God is.”

 

“How do I talk to her? Another summoning spell?”

 

“No, I believe summoning another god would kill you, Derek. Your devotion to Stiles is impressive, but reckless at times,” she said. “Prepare an offering for her and ask for her to come see you while you sleep. Give her an offering of a gryphon’s feather and blood from 14 wolves mixed together.”

 

“Animal wolves or shifters?” he asked.

 

“Werewolves, any amount they are willing to give. It must be given willingly,” she answered and Derek nodded. “Go soon, make the offering before you sleep tonight if you can gather the ingredients in time.”

 

“I’m sure I can,” Derek said and then he was climbing off his bed and shifting back to human form. He dressed quickly, got his phone, and after a moment of thinking he sent out text messages to different pack members and a separate one to Deaton. _‘Can I have some of your blood? Need it for a spell’_ went to the pack and _‘Do you have a gryphon’s feather?’_ went to Deaton. As soon as the message was sent, he cringed at the way he had worded it, but he quickly started getting replies. Soon, he had more volunteers than he needed and was out the door and on his way to his mother’s house. Talia was in the kitchen when he arrived; Matthew, Peter, Emily, and Layla were sat at the table.

 

“Not often my blood is requested,” Peter said, smiling at Derek.

 

“Gale thinks it will help,” Derek answered and Peter nodded at him. Talia came to the table a second later and put a glass jar down. There was already blood in the bottom of the jar, and Derek raised an eyebrow in confusion.

 

“I thought it’d be easier just to get it done,” Talia said.

 

“You didn’t even know what it was really for,” Derek said but she just shrugged her shoulders and smiled at him.

 

“I trust you,” she said. Peter took a knife from Talia, sliced into the side of his hand, and let the blood drip into the jar.

 

“To bring home the fetching young Stilinski, I assume,” Peter said.

 

“Hopefully it will help bring Stiles home,” Derek answered and Peter hummed a little like he was agreeing. He shook the last drop of blood off his hand, checked to see if the wound was closed, and then wiped the blade clean before handing it to Layla. Layla did the same thing as Peter, cutting her hand, waiting for the wound to heal, and then cleaning the blade. Matthew cut his hand last, deeper than the other two had and he bled longer than they did as well. The wound did knit itself closed again, but it was slow and looked more painful than it should have been.

 

“Dad?” Derek asked and Matthew just smiled at him.

 

“My body is still a little weird,” he answered.

 

“You didn’t have to—”

 

“I wanted too,” Matthew said and smiled at him.

 

“How much blood do you need?” Peter asked considering the jar and its contents.

 

“Whatever is willing given from 14 wolves,” he answered.

 

“Of course,” Peter said and leant back in his chair.

 

“Do you have enough people?” Layla asked.

 

“More than enough,” he answered. “I’ll make a loop through the compound, and then head into town and meet a few people near their work or at their house.”

 

“Me now,” Emily said suddenly. The group of adults looked at the little girl, and she was holding her hand out toward them expectantly.

 

“No, Emi, this is an adult—” Peter started but she cut him off with a sharp.

 

“No! This is for Stiles and I want to help Stiles!” she snapped. Her eyes burned with the fierceness of a seven-year-old, her jaw set stubbornly, and her hand still extended toward them. The adults shared looks, and after another minute, the little girl groaned dramatically. She climbed from her seat onto the table top, and Peter snatched the knife off the table to keep her from it. A second later—as well as a second too late—they realised she wasn’t heading for the knife. Instead, she extended her claws, sliced into her hand, and let a few drops of blood fall from her hand into the open jar.

 

“Emily!” Peter shouted, but it was too late. She was already shuffling back from the jar, looking pleased with herself, and unworried about her father. She settled back in her chair, sucked her bottom lip into her mouth, counted the people in the room, and then counted something else out on her fingers.

 

“Five people done, you just need nine more now,” she said and grinned widely at Derek. The room was silent for a moment, and then Talia was laughing.

 

“Oh my god,” she said through a mess of laughter, “Oh my God, Peter. She’s you. Mum and Dad must be rolling with laughter in their graves!”

 

“It’s not funny, Talia!” Peter snapped, but it was a losing battle. Layla was covering her mouth to hide her own giggles, and Matthew was smiling too widely.

 

“You’re grounded!” Peter snapped and Emily frowned at him. Peter stalked around the table, scooped Emily up into his arms, and stormed out of the house.

 

“It’s worth it,” Emily said. She had her hands balled into fists and planted on her hips. Derek heard the door slam behind Peter, and Derek let out a soft laugh.

 

“He won’t last,” Talia said when she had managed to calm down. “He won’t stay mad at her. He never does.” She screwed a lid onto the jar and handed it to Derek.

 

“Thank you,” Derek said. He hugged his parents and his cousin, and then he was out the door and walking over to Laura’s house. It was easy enough to walk around the compound, Laura and Cora were at Laura’s house, and his uncle Stephen was home for the next few hours. Each of them added their blood to the jar, with little questioning about his reasons. He drove into town next, going from Jackson to Boyd, to Issac and Scott at the clinic, and finally pulling up in front of Erica and Boyd’s rented house. Erica was standing on the deck when he arrived, Aelle on one hip, and her hand on the other. She looked unimpressed with him but waved him inside after her. Derek liked Erica and Boyd’s little house, it belonged to Boyd’s mother, and was close enough to the compound that pack nights were easy, but far enough away that it felt independent from the others.

 

“So, why am I giving you my blood?” Erica asked. She put Aelle into a high chair, clipped the chair's tray into place, and then put a bowl of dry cheerios on it. Aelle shoved a hand into the bowl and then stuffed it into her mouth. Derek’s phone beeped, and when he looked down at it, it was a message from Deaton letting him know that he did have a feather Derek could have.

 

“Gale wants me to make an offering to Leto,” Derek answered.

 

“Are you allowed to make an offering to other gods? Isn’t it, like rude, or sacrilegious?” she asked but she was reached for the jar.

 

“I don’t think the Greek pantheon of gods works that way,” Derek said. “They’re all jealous and vengeful, but they know there are lots of them.”

 

“I guess so,” she said but sliced into her hand regardless of her questions. “You think it might help with Stiles?”

 

“It might,” he answered and she rolled her eyes before looking at him.

 

“I feel a little more entitled to an answer since I’m bleeding into a jar for you,” she said.

 

“Gale thinks… she thinks I’m a different kind of werewolf, a kind I’ve never heard of before,” he answered. “She wants me to try and contact Leto because she’ll be able to tell me about it.”

 

“Alright?” Erica said and raised an eyebrow at him.

 

“I don’t know,” Derek answered and was suddenly feeling stupid. “I’ll tell you when I know more. But right now, I need to go see Deaton to get the last ingredient.”

 

“Eat lunch with me,” Erica said, “it won’t kill you,” she added. Derek hesitated, but after a moment of thought he agreed and sat down. Erica gave him a bowl of mac and cheese for lunch and then told him that if it wasn’t good enough for him he could leave. He just smiled and ate it. He hadn’t spent much time with anyone alone, in the last month. They’d come to his apartment, laze around on his couch, and force their company on him. No one had talked about it though, no one mentioned Derek’s promised of worship to Stiles, no one even teased him about it. But, with the look on Erica’s face, Derek assumed it had been long enough now. “So, how’s worshiping Stiles going?”

 

“Fine,” Derek answered.

 

“How does one, worship their soulmate?” she asked.

 

“I pray to him,” Derek answered honestly. Erica choked on the bite of food she had just put in her mouth and then stared at him. Derek shrugged his shoulders and pushed the food around in on his plate. “I lit incense, a mixed of nontoxic plants that Deaton made for me, and then I just… talk to him. I tell him what’s going on, how everyone is doing, and… well, then I tell him about how I’m feeling, what’s good about him, how much I miss him.” Erica made a face at him, a little like she was unimpressed, but then she shook her head and smiled a little.

 

“You’re gross,” she said and Derek agreed. She didn’t ask any more about it, maybe because she was uncomfortable, or maybe because she thought she had overstepped. Derek stayed long enough to help Erica clean up, and feed Aelle a proper lunch. He offered to put Aelle down for a nap, and Erica nodded happily and handed him the little girl. He carried the girl to her bedroom, listening to her string together whatever words she knew. She was tired, yawning between words and sentences, but determined to keep talking to Derek. Aelle was getting big, old enough now that she didn’t take a nap in the morning anymore, and her afternoon naps were getting shorter and shorter.

 

“Bed?” Aelle asked as he put her down in her bed.

 

“Bed,” Derek agreed. She pointed to a huge bookshelf bolted to her bedroom wall and then turned to look at Derek again.

 

“Book,” she said and he nodded. He took book after book off the shelf and showed it to her until she finally nodded at one of them. He sat in a chair near her crib, and read slowly through a book about a panda that had to sneeze. There were only a few words in the whole book, but if he read them slowly, he knew Aelle would doze off long before he managed to finish the book. He set the book back on the shelf when he realised she was asleep, and then stood near the crib and watched her for a moment.

 

“You’re such a soft touch,” Erica said from the doorway.

 

“What do you mean?” he asked but he knew she was right.

 

“Checking each book, she would listen to any of them, but you wait until she nods,” Erica said.

 

“I like giving her a choice,” he answered.

 

“Your kids are going to be so spoiled some day,” Erica said.

 

“They might be,” Derek agreed, and he could suddenly hear Claudia’s voice from his dream in his head. The sighing and grunting that came from an angry teenager, in that moment, sounded wonderful. He turned to look at Erica, who was leaning against the doorframe and smiling at him.

 

“Do you want kids, Der?” she asked. Her voice was soft, but there was a teasing tone to it, so he shrugged his shoulders.

 

“I don’t know,” he answered. Partly because he didn’t want her to tease him, and partly because he didn’t really know. A child in a dream was miles away from a living, breathing human being.

 

“You’re lying,” she said, but he just shrugged at her again and she seemed to accept this as an answer. He left her house after that and drove silently to Deaton’s. Deaton lived in a large old house just a few blocks from Lydia’s mother’s home. Derek rang the doorbell and waited a minute for Deaton to answer and let him inside.  

 

“Gryphon feathers are rare things in our part of the world.”

 

“I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important,” he said.

 

“Are you doing something dangerous, Derek?” he asked.

 

“It’s an offering to Leto,” Derek said and Deaton nodded his head. Derek expected more questions from Deaton, and couldn’t help but be surprised when it didn’t come. Deaton left the room for a few minutes, and when he returned he held a shiny blue-brown feather between his fingers, as well as a large book under his arm. He wrapped the feather in a sheet of tissue paper and then handed it to Derek.

 

“I hope it helps,” he said.

 

“Thank you,” Derek said as he took it. Deaton paused for a moment, looking uncomfortable, and then he sighed heavily.

 

“Derek, I need to confuse something to you,” he said. Derek said nothing back, worried that it would stop Deaton from whenever he needed to say. “I owe you an apology and when Stiles returns, I will apologise to him as well. It… it is unfair how I’ve reacted and responded to this situation. If I am, to be honest, it is because I… I was angry with myself. I should have listened to Mr Stilinski, he was right and I dismissed him because of a perceived lack of experience. It was wholly unfair of me and I should have been more helpful when you and Stiles corrected that. And, I’m sorry I haven’t been more helpful to you over these last two years. I hope I can correct this going forward.” Derek stared at him for a long few minutes before he nodded his head.

 

“Thank you,” Derek said again. “I’ll hold you to that.”

 

“Very well,” Deaton said and smiled at him. “And, I have something else I’ve found, that I believe will interest you.” He held the book out to Derek next, it was a historical record book, it was filled with information of old trials and court cases. Deaton had marked one of the pages, the words Thiess of Kaltenbrun written as a title on the page. There wasn’t a lot of information on the man, only that he had said he was a Hound of God and went to Hell where he fought against the Devil and his Witches. He was sentenced to be flogged and then banished from his home, for turning people from the truth of God.

 

“Are there more records of them?” Derek asked, but Deaton shook his head.

 

“I’ve only found this so far, hopefully, Leto will be able to tell you more,” Deaton answered.

 

“Have you always known about the existence of the gods?” Derek asked handing the book back to Deaton.”

 

“Of course. The gods, while not common, are well documented,” Deaton said. “It was believed that they had long since left the world alone, but it seems that it is possible to find them still.” Derek didn’t stay long at Deaton’s, feeling out of place, and a little uncomfortable now. Instead, he went back to his apartment, taking the feather and the jar back inside with him. Gale was curled up on the couch next to Eilís, who had all her things spread around the apartment in boxes now that she was back.

 

“You ran off quickly this morning,” Eilís said once he had closed the door. Derek set the jar and feather down on the counter, before turning to her.

 

“I had to get some things,” Derek answered.

 

“Sam said he’ll be late tonight,” she told him, but Derek was distracted. He was counting off the people who had put their blood into the jar and was sure there was currently blood from 13 different werewolves. “Is that a jar of blood?” Eilís asked as she got up and walked toward him.

 

“An offering,” he answered absentmindedly. Eilís carried Gale with her, and when she was close enough set her down on the counter with Derek. He was opening the jar, and a second later, used his claws to cut his arm open and bleed into the jar himself. He put the feather into the jar after that, sealed the jar, and shook it together until the feather was totally coated. Then, he had to wait. So, instead of fixating too much on the jar, he set it on his bedside table and then helped Eilís unpack her things. They sorted through boxes and suitcases, filling Sam’s mostly empty room with clothing and book. The more things Derek pulled from boxes, the more he felt like he was in the way of Sam and Eilís. The feeling struck him suddenly, and a little painfully. He knew that they wouldn’t kick him out of the apartment, but… maybe it was time that he left them alone. They were starting their lives together, it wasn’t fair that Derek spent his time in the middle of that.

 

They ate dinner together that night, Sam calling only once to tell Eilís he was going to be even later than he originally thought. She had slipped away to talk to him for a few minutes, so Derek went to bed. It was still early, but Gale didn’t seem surprised when he crawled into bed a little before 9 PM. Falling asleep wasn’t easy that night, he tossed and turned for over an hour before he dozed off, and when he finally did he barely realised it had happened. His eyes closed and then there was a thump and slide of the front door opening. Derek thought, originally, that Sam must be home, but then there was total silence. He couldn’t hear Eilís or Sam talking to one another, couldn’t hear Sam kicking off his shoes and walking inside. So, Derek got up, and carefully opened his bedroom door.

 

He was hit with a rushing wind and the smell of the ocean when the door swung open. He took a step forward, his bare feet landing in sun-warmed grass. The colours of the world around him seemed too vivid like someone had turned the saturation up on it. He took another step forward, and suddenly, he could hear someone humming, just beyond his line of sight. He started toward the humming, sure that it was a woman, and a second later she was singing. The voice seized Derek’s heart, making him stumble, and drop to his knees. He shifted without thinking and then ran as fast as he could to the voice. After a few steps, he had to turn, realising as he did, that he was on an island. He rounded a grouping of trees and came to a stop a few feet away from the woman. Even with the knowledge that this wasn’t really Apollo’s mother, Derek had still expected them to look similar. They didn’t.

 

Leto was a tall, thin, black woman, with smooth skin, clear of any markings. Her head was haloed by an afro of brown-black curls, that blew away from her face as the wind rushed by. She was sitting with her feet dangling off the edge of the island, dragging through the water below. She looked up at him when he stopped and smiled widely. He was surprised that she looked so young like she was Stiles’ or his own age. The idea suddenly terrified him, that gods either died young or moved onto the afterlife when they were still this young. “Hello Derek,” she said with a voice that sounded like a song.

 

“Leto,” he said, his voice coming from his wolf form just as it would have his human one. After a moment of shuffling, he bowed his head to her. She laughed brightly when he did, and then got to her feet.

 

“You don’t need to do that,” she said. He straightened and was glad that she couldn’t see the blush that was burning his skin under his fur. She closed the small distance between them and looked him over. “You were a good choice,” she told him, still smiling.

 

“For?”

 

“To be a Hound of God,” she answered. “That’s why you called me, isn’t it?” she asked.

 

“I… I would like to know what it means. I read about Thiess of Kaltenbrun and it didn’t offer any answers.”

 

“He… he was a poor choice,” she confessed. “He thought… he really believed he was doing the best thing.”

 

“So, I shouldn’t talk about it?” he asked.

 

“Well, maybe not to a group of terrified humans and power-hungry hunters. If you avoid that, I think you’ll be fine,” she said.

 

“What… what does it mean? Being a Hound of God?” he asked.

 

“It’s a gift I can give to my children. When one is brave and kind, when they are deserving, I can reward them for it. Lachesis of the Fates will sometimes tell me, that someone will be good enough for the gift. Some deal with this gift well and go on to do great things with it. Others… others can’t handle it. They lose themselves in the idea that they are more… it’s why I’ve stopped reaching out and telling them. It’s better when you find it on your own and come to me. It’s less stressful when you grow up without the pressures of it,” she explained.

 

“So, you told him and he went mad?” Derek asked.

 

“No, no… he came to it in his own time, but he was old by then and wanted to make it mean something,” she said.

 

“You don’t think I’ll go mad?” Derek asked.

 

“No, you’re stronger than he was. Your family, though it was an accident really, your family has made you and your siblings stronger than any others. You are a mixture of so many kinds of shifters, so many different creatures all rolled together and incorrectly labelled a werewolf.”

 

“Are my siblings Hounds of God?” he asked, but she shook her head.

 

“They are powerful and if they focused on their powers, they would be even more amazing. The children that come after you, will be much the same. But, your siblings aren’t heroes, Derek. They are strong and fierce and brave, but they are not what you are,” she said. She took another step toward Derek, reaching out and running her fingers through the fur on his head. When her fingers touched him, he was suddenly aware of a million new things. He was suddenly aware of a million different lives. It felt like there was something rushing through him like the wind had burrowed into his body and was now trying desperately to escape. He watched himself, in different timelines and different worlds, saving lives. Fighting monsters, he’d never seen before and caring for people he had never met. Sometimes, he’d see his pack, huge and sprawling like it was now. Other times, there were few of them, fighting to survive in a world where no one knew about the supernatural. There were times when he was all alone, running from city to city, doing what he could to help before he moved on. But, he was always there, always fighting, always trying to save as many people as he could. And then, suddenly, the images stopped.

 

Leto pulled her hand away from his head, and the wind seemed to chase it out of his body. He choked on the sharp intake of air he needed, and then he whined low a pitifully. Leto moved slowly, shifting down to her knees, and taking his head in her hands. “You’re a hero, like Odysseus, and Bellerophon, and Hercules. You are, in every lifetime; beyond brave, infinitely good, and always willing to give your life. Even when you temper is quick and your life is unfair, you always give yourself up to others. You are a hero of man, a warrior for werewolves, and a hound of God, Derek Hale.” He moved just a little, his body shifting back to a human, and he looked at her again. He had tears in his eyes now, and his throat ached.

 

“I… I don’t—”

 

“You do deserve this, Derek,” she insisted. “And, you deserve happiness too. I’ll help you get it. I’ll send you someone to help, and they will explain what else needs to be done.”

 

“Thank you,” Derek choked out. She tugged him toward her, wrapping her arms around him and hugging him tightly.

 

“You’re welcome, Derek,” she whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does this chapter make sense? Does anyone have any burning questions they want answers to? If you do, you should comment and let me know, so that I can make sure I address them as I go on. 
> 
> Also, how's everyone feeling about the trailer for the end of the series? My dash hasn't been this full of Sterek in a long time. My friend wants to watch the stuff she hasn't seen, so I think I might actually go and watch the rest of the show too. Better to yell at the TV with someone you love, than doing it by yourself. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	11. Chapter 11

Some nights, he dreamt of a world completely different from the one he lived in. Other nights, he dreamt of a life so different from his current one, it terrified him. He dreamt of fires, and hunters, and abominations. He dreamt of Stiles in and out of his life, loving and hating him, protecting and fighting him. He dreamt for worlds and realities that made his chest hurt and his mind ache. He woke in the mornings feel exhausted and sore like he spent his night fighting through a world that he wanted no part of. Other nights still, he dreamt of his home and his family, of Stiles’ eyes and lips and voice. He dreamt of lazy Sunday mornings and long cold winters that they cuddled together. He dreamt of times that he promised himself would happen. He swore to whatever god would listen, that he would claw his way there if he had too.

 

He woke, more often than not, to the sound of his alarm buzzing next to him, and as each day passed he worried that Leto wasn’t able to find someone to help him. He worried that she had forgotten, or gone back on what she said. He worried that Apollo had intervened or Stiles had told her not to worry about it. Each time his mind raced through the thoughts, he forced himself out of bed. He dressed and went for a jog. He had really worked out in months, Lydia had taken over tending to the greenhouse, and Derek hid away in his bedroom. The day after he saw Leto, he had decided that he needed to stop. He needed to start moving again. He needed to be back to who he had been before. He set a slow pace as he entered the preserve, headphones around his neck—music playing quietly for a human, but more than loud enough for a wolf—but listening to the sounds around him.

 

They were having a welcome party for Eilís later that day, it was her turn to be officially welcomed into the pack. They’d had a huge party, a few weeks after the pack was put back together. There were a lot of people that Apollo had taken, who didn’t have packs, didn’t have homes anymore, and they had slipped into the Hale pack like it was their home. A lot of them lived in Derek’s building now, filling the suites with family and pack, and it was wonderful now. That celebration had gone on for a week worth of nights, it was filled with drinking and dancing, and running through the preserve. It was a drunken mess, full of laughter and jokes, and the sheer joy of life. Derek had hated that party. He had tried, really, really tried, to be part of it all. But, every night, he had slipped away hours before the end of the party. He had hidden in his apartment and bedroom, and sometimes—when Sam wasn’t there—screamed and shouted and cried. This time, Derek was sure he’d be fine.

 

This one would be quieter. It would take place in an evening, and Eilís would be introduced to everyone. She would meet everyone and everything that was a member of the pack. Derek was fairly sure it was unnecessary, and that she had probably met everyone already, but that was part of the welcoming. It was customary and he hoped that she would enjoy it. He made it to the green house quickly, grabbed Lydia’s binder, and started his work. It was easy work, but it was time-consuming, and it gave Derek’s mind a chance to wander away from his task. Let him imagine Stiles there instead, skillfully tending the plants. Derek wanted that. He had drawn up the plans for a bigger greenhouse as well, one with a higher ceiling and better shelving. He had a printed version of it, tucked in a bag by the front door of the current one. He had left it for Lydia to look at, but so far, she hadn’t opened it. Derek hadn’t seen Lydia for a while now, and when he did she’d nod at him, and move on. He wasn’t sure if she was mad that he hadn’t been willing to help her mourn, or if there was something else to it. Maybe she was mad that she hadn’t tried harder to find Stiles, maybe it had something to do with guilt over angry. Or guilt that had become angry. Derek didn’t know, but he didn’t mind. He never minded being the one that people were angry with, it was often easier that way.

 

He leant over a pink flowering plant, and carefully sorted through the leaves and flowers, plucking out the dead or dried bits of the plant. He tossed the dead parts into a bucket and then went to check the next flowering plant. He could hear people approaching the green house suddenly, a set of uneven footfalls, and then a sturdier set. Derek turned and looked over his shoulder, he could Boyd a few feet away, with Aelle stumbling along in front of him. He had an easy smile on his face, looking at his daughter like she was the world, and Derek thought that was probably true for him. A minute later, there was a thump of little hands on the door, and then Boyd opened it. “You did really good,” Derek heard him say as he came inside. “Morning Derek,” he said.

 

“Morning, what are you guys doing here?” he asked.

 

“Laura needed some help with a bookshelf, I actually think she was just being lazy. Like she couldn’t put the thing up,” Boyd explained.

 

“Nice of you to say yes, regardless,” Derek said.

 

“We were leaving, and I realised you were out here, so we can over,” Boyd said. Aelle reached her hands out toward Derek, and he took her from Boyd. “How’s this going?”

 

“Fine, Lydia’s binder helps, and I think she comes around to make sure I haven’t over or under watered anything,” Derek explained.

 

“Are you coming to the party tonight?” Boyd asked, and Derek suddenly wondered if that was his real reason for coming to the greenhouse. Boyd hadn’t been joking when he said that he was going to be keeping an eye on Derek. He showed up randomly, texted him once a day, and sometimes even called him. Derek found as it went on, that he really didn’t mind it happening.

 

“Yeah, of course,” Derek answered.

 

“Just making sure, the last one you weren’t so keen on,” Boyd said.

 

“It was… a little soon,” Derek said and shrugged his shoulders.

 

“Soon,” Aelle repeated and then laughed.

 

“Good, it’s important that our future Alpha attends,” Boyd said and Derek frowned at him a little.

 

“I’m still not even sure if that’s going to happen,” Derek said, but Boyd was rolling his eyes at him.

 

“Of course, it’s happening Derek. Laura is thrilled, Peter is jealous, and you’ll be great at it,” he said. Derek couldn’t stop himself from cringing at the words, like Boyd’s sincerity made it worse for him. He looked at Aelle inside of Boyd, she seemed like a less judgmental option. She had her head craned away from him, staring at the plants and flowers in the greenhouse.

 

“Thanks,” Derek finally said, but he was sure that Boyd could tell he didn’t believe it. He hadn’t told anyone about what Leto had told him yet, he wasn’t sure how to bring it up, or deal with it either. Boyd had only asked him about it once so far, but as he stared at him right now, he knew that he was going to ask again.

 

“Will you tell me now?” he asked. Derek shifted from one foot to the other and then he sighed.

 

“I don’t… I don’t know what to say,” Derek said.

 

“What happened, is a good place to start,” he said, so after a moment of hesitation, Derek told him. He explained that he was a different kind of werewolf, that Leto had told him he was a hero, and that someone would come help him. He felt his face getting hotter and hotter as he explained, and as Boyd watched him so intently. When Derek finished, he waved one of his hands around, and managed to say, “that’s all I know.” Boyd just stared at Derek for a minute, before he started nodding his head, and then he was smiling at him.

 

“That’s great, Derek! Why would you be worried about that?” Boyd asked.

 

“What if I can’t live up to that?” Derek snapped and then shook his head softly.

 

“According to what you said, she said you ARE a hero. She didn’t say you could become one, or that you’ll be one someday. She said you are one, you don’t need to live up to anything,” Boyd said. “And… you don’t need to tell anyone else. I won’t say anything.” Boyd reached for Aelle, taking her back from Derek, and then he smiled a little at him. “I’ll see you tonight.”

 

“Tonight,” Derek agreed. He reached out and ran a hand along Aelle’s head, she smiled widely at him, and he smiled at her. “See you later.”

 

“Bye!” she said excitedly, and then Boyd was leaving and heading back to where his car must be. Derek watched him for a minute before he turned back to the last two pots of flowers. He knelt in front of them and went back to silently pulling the dead parts away from the plant. Everyone felt too quiet now, and Derek considered getting up and playing some music from his phone. He decided against it, because the sooner he was done, the sooner he could go home. So, he pulled the last of the plants, did another round through the greenhouse, and then jogged back home. He had promised his mother he would help her with setting up and some of the cooking that afternoon, so after a shower and lunch, he was gone back to the compound. Derek drove to the house this time, feeling that if he did want to leave the party, driving somehow seemed more mature than just throwing himself through the woods.

 

Sitting at the kitchen table, looking tired but happy, was his great uncle. Matias lit up when he saw Derek, climbing unsteadily to his feet and walking toward him. “Derek!” he said loudly. Matias’ voice was huge, it boomed through every room and cut through any noise level. He was a huge man, wide and tall and strong. He always made Derek feel small, and even now, in his old age, Derek still felt small in front of him.

 

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” Derek said, and let himself be wrapped in a tight hug. Matias had lived in Beacon Hills for most of his adult life, coming up from Mexico when he was 17 and staying until he his original pack was attacked. Then both of Derek’s great uncles, Matias and Riley, had moved back to his hometown and stayed to keep their pack stronger. The two of them hadn’t been to visit since… since the small funeral, they’d had for his father two years ago. “Is Uncle Ril here too?” he asked, as Matias let go of him.

 

“Out back with your father, a shock to find him here,” Matias said.

 

“It’s been a weird couple of years,” Derek said and Matias smiled at him.

 

“Your mother told me that your soulmate was a god,” he said.

 

“He is,” Derek answered.

 

“Amazing, just amazing,” Matias said and then dropped his voice like he was trying to whisper. “I’ve met a god, you know.”

 

“Really?” Derek asked incredulously. Matias had a habit of embellishing stories or making up stories altogether so that it was impossible to know when he was telling the truth about anything. Because of Matias, Derek and his siblings had believed for a while, that all electronics were powered by tiny grandmother’s who had retired but wanted to keep busy.

 

“I stole his watch,” he said.

 

“You… you stole a watch from a god? And, you survived?” Derek asked.

 

“I did!” he said. As he said it, Derek’s parents and his great uncle Riley walked into the kitchen.

 

“Oh good, you’re here!” Talia said as she entered the room.

 

“Hello, Derek,” Riley said and yanked Derek into another hug. “What are you two talking about?” he asked.

 

“Matti said he stole a watch from a god,” Derek answered and Riley groaned as he let Derek go.

 

“You’re not tellin’ him about all that now, are you?” he asked.

 

“What? I’ve got to,” he said. “It’s time now, don’t you think?” he said. Riley seemed uncomfortable for a moment, and then he nodded his agreement.

 

“I have a confession, Talia,” he said. “We came here because of Derek.”

 

“Why?” she asked. Riley dug into his pocket and pulled out an old golden pocket watch.

 

“No,” Derek said in disbelief.

 

“I have had this stupid watch for so long, and I’ve been holding onto it because Derek was gonna need it,” Riley said.

 

“I need it?” he asked.

 

“You told me,” Riley said.

 

“I don’t understand,” Derek managed to say. Riley held the watch out to Derek, and for a second Derek didn’t do anything, but then Matias nudged him forward, and Derek took it. The watch burned in his hands, feeling too hot and terrifying.

 

“You appeared in the house, just when we got back, and you told us you’d need this watch,” Riley explained.

 

“Okay,” Derek said, but he looked shocked. He was staring down at the watch in his hands like it might explode at any second.

 

“And it belonged to a god?” Talia asked.

 

“No,” Riley snapped.

 

“Yes,” Matias answered.

 

“It was just an old magical heirloom, ain’t got nothing to do with any gods, you old loon,” Riley snapped. Matias rolled his eyes and huffed but didn’t argue further.

 

“Thank you…” Derek said, looking back at them.

 

“I hope it helps, with whatever you need it for,” Riley said.

 

“You need to take it home,” Matias said, “put it somewhere safe.”

 

“It’ll be fine until I go home later,” Derek said, but both his great uncles seemed against that.

 

“Go home, put it somewhere safe, and then come back to help,” Riley insisted. Derek looked at his mother, who shrugged her shoulders and then nodded her head back in the direction of the front door.

 

“We’ll be fine until you get back,” she said. So, Derek agreed hesitantly. It took him a minute before he could bring himself to move, but he finally got himself going. He clutched the watch in his hands until he needed them to get into his car and actually drive home. So, he stuffed the watch into his pocket and drove the whole way home 20 over the speed limit. He wondered momentarily if Gale would know what the watch was, or where it had come from, but before he could get to his apartment doors someone shouted his name.

 

“Derek? Derek Hale?” they called.

 

“Yes?” Derek asked. The person got closer and was smiling at him. They were short and their hair was held back by a thin golden band with two small wings on either side of their head. They were wearing a loose fitting white dress shirt and black dress pants. They had on a pair of black combat boots, that also had wings on them. “You’re Hermes,” Derek said, as they reached him.

 

“I am,” Hermes answered, grinning. “I’m here to help.” Hermes looked too young to really help with anything, no older than 16, but they did look eager.

 

“Leto sent you?” Derek asked.

 

“She did, sorry about the gap in time there, a bit hard to get away from taking people to the Underworld, not an easy job to fill when you want a break,” Hermes answered.

 

“I bet,” Derek answered, and then slowly he said. “I don’t… really know what to ask you.” Hermes seemed to grin even more at this, and then they laughed a little.

 

“That’s fine, I’m so excited to meet you, Derek. I really am. You’ve pissed off Apollo something fierce, and I just love it when that guy is pissed off. Just makes my year better, you know?”

 

“Sure,” Derek said.

 

“We should get going though, don’t want to waste time,” Hermes said, already turning around and heading away from Derek.

 

“What?” Derek asked.

 

“Being a Hound of God, this will be easy for you, don’t have to pull your soul out or anything, so that’s nice,” Hermes said, still walking away.

 

“Wait,” Derek snapped and Hermes stopped. They turned around to look at Derek, realising that he wasn’t following them. “What are you talking about?” Derek asked.

 

“What? Oh, we’re going to the Underworld,” Hermes said like it was obvious.

 

“Why?”

 

“To… To get Stiles back,” Hermes said.

 

“What?”

 

“Is this all you do?” Hermes asked, raising their eyebrows almost to their hairline. Derek closed the distance between them and grabbed hold of Hermes’ shoulders.

 

“What do you mean, get Stiles back?” Derek asked.

 

“Umm… I’m going to guess that Leto didn’t tell you what was going on,” Hermes mumbled.

 

“No, she said someone would come help me,” Derek answered.

 

“Oh… well… Okay, let’s slow my roll, and I’ll explain best I can,” Hermes said. They took a minute to figure out what they needed to say, and how they wanted to word it and then said. “You’re a Hound of God, you have the ability to travel between this world and the next. The Underworld is fair game for you. Which is why we don’t need to knock your soul out to get you in. You’re also an honest to God hero, so you should be worthy enough to enter Hades’ castle. Now, Stiles is in purgatory, which connects to the Underworld. But, to get into the Underworld from Purgatory, you need Hades’ permission. And you want Stiles back, so go be a hero and convince Hades to give you Stiles back.” Derek stood still, still gripping Hermes' shoulders, and staring at their face. He couldn’t find the words he needed and was scared to let himself be hopeful or excited about this information. Finally, Derek tightened his hands a little and then said.

 

“Why?”

 

“Why, what?” Hermes asked.

 

“Why help me?”

 

“You need it,” they answered like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Besides, I have a history with Hecate. We’re on good terms. I want whatever incarnation of them to be happy. And it will piss off Apollo more, which is always nice.”

 

“Okay,” Derek said slowly. “Okay, let’s go.”  

 

“Good. It’s a bit of a hike,” Hermes said. Derek only paused long enough to send a group text message to as many pack members as he could think of. He sent, _“I won’t be there tonight, sorry. I’m going to try and get Stiles again. I’ll be back.”_ And then, he turned off his phone before anyone could answer him. He didn’t have time to explain, or at least, he didn’t want to make the time to explain. So, he stuffed his phone into his pocket and started after Hermes into the preserve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realised, that I make Derek get naked in front of a lot of people. Just, like, apparently he has no shame in my world. Not in this chapter, but in the last one and some of the others.


	12. Chapter 12

A gun fired near his head making his ears ring, causing him drop to the ground, and out of the way. He reached up and grabbed at the man next to him, yanking him to the ground as well. The man looked startled and then swore repeatedly. The world around them was night dark and lit only by a dull square flashlight attached to the other man’s hip. “Why did you fire?” he hissed. “Now they know where we are!”

 

“I’m sorry! It was an accident,” he whispered frantically.

 

“We’re never going to make it if we stay in human form.”

 

“You’re an American citizen, you’ll be alright,” he whispered back. “Just a fine, maybe some jail time.”

 

“Oh, shut up you idiot, just shift,” he snapped already yanking off his shirt. The other man laughed under his breath but was undressing a second later.

 

“You’d think they’d make immigration laws easier to deal with,” he said as he kicked out of his pants.

 

“Yeah, immigration is to blame here, not the dumbass who tried to steal a fucking watch the day before legally crossing the border,” he snapped. “From a cop!” He rolled onto his side, shifted into a wolf, and shook out his coat. A few steps away the other man had shifted too, and now stood in front of him as a honey brown puma. He had scooped up his pack, he had managed to get it around his neck and one of his paws to keep it on his back.

 

“For a cop,” he said.

 

“Stealing a watch from a cop for a cop doesn’t make it better,” he snapped and started sprinting away from their mess of clothing before someone noticed it. The other man followed right beside him, seemingly unconcerned with the people who were looking for them. Unconcerned that he had just fired a gun into the sky, and unconcerned that they were now going to brute force their way into America. He pounced and hopped around, kicking up dust as he did. His pack thumping and jingling as he went.

 

“You’d think I killed someone,” he said after a few minutes.

 

“You tried to take a magic heirloom.”

 

“I didn’t know that at the time.”

 

“Why’d you think I’d want a stolen watch?”

 

“Seemed like a good joke to me,” he answered.

 

“You’re an idiot,” he said. The worse part of it all was that he did think it was funny, the idea of going home carrying a stupid stolen watch as he patrolled the town. Or maybe the worst part was that he was having a really great time, leaping and running farther and farther away from Río Bravo. His soulmate racing by at his side, every bit the stupid brash man he couldn’t help but love, even when shifted into an animal. They lost their pursuers over the two hours it took for them to get to the border. It was easier than he thought it would be, and soon they had reached the Rio Grande. He was about to slip into the water when he realised the puma had started walking down the bank. He paused, looking over the river once before he turned and followed him. There they found two small cubs huddled together, one staring up at them, the other with its face hidden against its sibling's side. They both stopped, glanced across the river again and then back to the cubs.

 

“You two are shifters,” he said softly after sniffing at the air. The cubs looked at one another and then back to him and nodded. “What are you doing here?”

 

“Momma sent us,” one of them said. “She got hurt. She told us to go to the river, and then swim cross. Our papa’s in McAllen waiting on us.”

 

“The rivers fast,” the other cub said mournfully. He could smell death on the cubs and knew without pressing that their mother hadn’t made it.

 

“We’ll take you across,” he said. The cubs looked at one another again, and then cuddled closer together.

 

“What are your names?” the other man asked softly. “I’m Matias and this is my soulmate, Riley.”

 

“Manuel,” one said. “Martha,” said the other.

 

“We’re going to find my sister,” Riley said sitting down in front of them. Matias took a step closer to them, and Riley hoped that a puma would be less frightening to two Jaguars than a wolf was. “She’s my alpha, she’ll be able to help,” he promised. The cubs seemed at ease with this and after a few more minutes they agreed to the offered help. Each man picked up one of the cubs in their mouth and swam across the river. They put the cubs down on the other side, and lead them into the Santa Ana National Wildlife Refuge. This part was easier than Riley thought it should have been too. They made it half way through the refuge before they found two other people and finally shifted back to human. A man and woman stood waiting for them there, the man handed them both some clothing and then stepped away.

 

“I hope you two are happy,” the woman said sternly. “I’m meant to turn you two in when you get here. Don’t think they don’t know what you planned. Like this isn’t the easiest border crossing to get to! You’re both idiots!”

 

“Are you going to?” Matias asked seriously.

 

“Yeah, sis, are you going to?” Riley asked but his voice sounded light and happy, and it made the woman scowl more.

 

“Of course not!” she snapped. “Turnin’ my third in, kicking my brother to the kerb! But if you do something so stupid again, I will! The pack will understand it then, I’m telling everyone by the way. I hope they pester you until you die. Just think—”

 

“We brought friends with us,” he said interrupting her. The woman finally noticed the two cubs a few feet back, wet and terrified looking. She clicked her tongue and made a soft cooing noise at them.

 

“Oh god, where did you find them?” she asked.

 

“Think their mum is… gone, said their dad is somewhere in McAllen,” he answered.

 

“We’ll find him,” she said and walked past him. “Hello, sweeties.”

 

“We’ll have to put you four in the trunk since only the two of us came in. The exit of the park has a protection spell on it, to keep people from coming and going as they please. I’ve warded the truck it should keep you hidden from anyone else,” the third man said. His sister scooped up the cubs, letting them cuddle together and against her. They made their way back through the winding trails and to the parking lot. Riley crawled into the trunk first, pressing himself as far back as he could. Matias climbed in after him but tried to put a little distance between them. It only lasted for a second before Riley wrapped his arms around the other man, yanking him against him.

 

“Thought you were mad at me,” he said softly.

 

“Am,” Riley answered.

 

“Then what’s this?” he asked.

 

“Makin’ room for the cubs,” he answered and Matias snorted. The cubs curled up in front of them, wrapped around each other, still Jaguars and still terrified. The vehicle lurched forward, the gears sticking as gear shift was jammed from one position to the next. Then they were rolling through the parking lot. His sister drove, reaching the park entrance and rolling down her window to talk to the guard. They could hear the man moving around the outside of the car, probably waving some kind of spell over the vehicle. After a few minutes, he seemed content that no one else was there, and then they were driving again. They drove around for hours before they stopped and were let out of the trunk.

 

“What are you gonna do now?” she asked.

 

“Hotel room, find their dad. We can get a car and drive ourselves back once we have,” Riley said. His sister agreed with slowly, and after a bit more talking, his sister and her husband drove home, unable to be away from the pack any longer. Riley found a hotel, and book a room for them all. It took just under a month for the children to shift back to human and just over seven months of search before they actually found their father. They found him one day, standing at the entrance to the Wildlife Refuge. They made a habit of heading back because it was a place that he knew the cubs should be coming through. They saw the man before the cubs did, standing in the parking lot, looking devastated. He looked like he wanted to disappear, to fade from the world forever, he didn’t mean much to the men, but a second later the cubs were shouting.

 

“Papa!” Martha yelled as they parked the used car they had bought. Manuel was pulled the door open and tumbling out before it had even stopped moving. The cubs raced to him, in human form, jumping and grabbing at him, yanking him to the ground. He held his children and sobbed. Matias and Riley spent a few more hours with them, trading phone numbers because they had spent seven months with the children, and had fallen in love with them, and wanted to keep in touch. They left McAllen the next morning, driving back home to Beacon Hill. They drove mostly in silence, only really talking when they agreed to change who was driving. When they finally pulled into the compound, Riley was driving, and suddenly so thrilled to be home. They parked the used car they had bought seven months ago, and Riley planned on never getting back into it. Matias shook out his limbs, stretching his arms up over his head, and then letting his arms fall.

 

“Nice to finally be here,” Matias said looking up at the huge house.

 

“You would have been here sooner if you hadn’t—”

 

“I know,” he answered then grabbed the other man and kissed him. “I love you.”

 

“I love you too,” Riley answered softly. Then they were walking up the stairs, into the house, and Derek was left behind them. Again, suddenly, a separate entity from the dream. Derek expected the dream to fade, or flicked away, but it didn’t. So, after a moment Derek chased the men up the steps, and into the house. It looked almost the same as it did now, except with old wallpapered walls, and outdated furniture. He could hear movement all around him, and he knew the men were in the living room now. So, Derek took a few steps forward and peered into the room. Matias digging into his bag, before he pulled something out of it.

 

“I have a confession to make,” Matias said slowly. Riley froze next to him, he had been looking through his own bag, but then slowly turned to his soulmate.

 

“I don’t like the sounds of that,” Riley said. Matias grinned a little and then held his hand out to Riley. Slowly, he uncurled his fingers and sitting in his palm was… a shiny gold watch.

 

“No,” Riley said, but reached out for it. He picked it up and stared down at it. “You’ve had this for seven months? And said nothing?”

 

“I thought… when we were so close to Mexico still, you might give it back,” Matias said. Riley held the watch by a golden chain, letting it fall from his hand, and dangle in the air in front of him. For a minute, he seemed in awe of the watch, but then he snapped his eyes away from it, and to Derek.

 

“Who are you?” he asked. “Who the fuck are you?” Derek took a step back, terrified that someone could see him. Riley shoved the watch back at Matias, and then shifted into his beta form. Matias shifted beside him, teeth bared and the watch clutched in his hands.

 

“You can see me?” he asked.

 

“I asked you a question,” he snapped, and all Derek could suddenly think was that his great uncle was going to kill him. Then, a split second later, he wondered what would happen if he died in his dream.  

 

“Stop!” the voice came from the kitchen. It startled Derek to know that it belonged to his grandfather. The man was in the room a second later, hand on Derek’s shoulder, and smiling at him. “This is Derek,” he said softly. “He’s Tali’s boy.”

 

“Talia is a month old,” Riley snapped.

 

“How have you managed to get yourself here?” he asked.

 

“I was dreaming,” he answered.

 

“Leta will be down soon, she’s putting Talia down for a nap,” he explained.

 

“What’s going on, Jason?” Riley snapped. Derek turned to look back at his great uncles, both of them had shifted back to human form but still seemed uneasy about the whole thing. His grandfather was still smiling, seeming unconcerned by the whole thing.

 

“Derek’s come back in time,” he answered easily. A minute later, Derek could hear footfalls on the stairs, and then his grandmother—looking young and beautiful, and so much like his mother that for a second he thought it was her—was coming toward them.

 

“Are the boys back?” Leta asked.

 

“In here,” Matias said softly.

 

“Oh good, I have work that needs doing out back and… hello,” she said distractedly, and then suddenly noticed Derek as well.

 

“Derek Hale,” Jason said. “Talia’s son,” he added.

 

“Oh!” she managed to say as she walked toward him. She grabbed at his face, turning it from one side to the other, and then looked him up and down. “Now, I knew you’d be comin’, but I didn’t know what you’d look like. Why did you tell me, Jason?”

 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Leta, I had a dream last night. One of our grandchildren from the future will be around, striking young man, got your eyes.” Derek felt the blush burn quickly across his face, and Leta laughed softly.

 

“Blushes like you,” she said, pushing her hand against Jason’s chest. He took a step back, but he was smiling at her. Derek remembered that from when he was very young, the same bright loving smile. Derek’s grandparents had died too soon, only a few weeks after Cora was born., only a few years into their 40’s. They had been killed by hunters, just after Leta had decided she was done with being an Alpha and Talia was ready for it anyway. So, Talia had become the Alpha, Leta and Jason had gone on vacation, and while they were away they had been killed. Derek surged forward suddenly, wrapping his arms around his grandmother and hugging her tightly. “I take it, I’m not around anymore,” she said softly. Her arms wrapped around Derek, holding him like she loved him, even without knowing anything about him.

 

“Not since I was a kid,” he answered.

 

“Don’t say anymore,” Jason said from beside him. “Can’t have us knowing about the future.” Derek wanted, for a minute, to ignore what he said. He wanted to tell himself he was dreaming and it wouldn’t hurt, but when he pulled back from his grandmother he knew that wasn’t true. So, instead of telling them to be careful, and to not go on vacation when Talia becomes Alpha, he just gave her a sad smile. He looked at his great uncles then, they hadn’t moved from their spots and he said.

 

“I’m not sure how I got here, but I need you to keep that watch.”

 

“What watch?” Leta asked and turned on her brother. Matias held up the watch, looking guilty as he did. “You kept the damn watch?” she snapped, but then seemed to remember Derek. “I’ll deal with you two later. Go on, Derek.”

 

“You’ve just given me the watch in my time,” Derek said and dug into his jacket pocket. He pulled out an identical watch and let it hang from his hand. “I don’t know why I need it, but it seems important.”

 

“You want us to keep this watch because it seems important?” Riley asked.

 

“In the future, you tell me that watch belongs to a god. Or at least Uncle Matias does,” Derek said.

 

“A god?” Matias asked startled. He looked down at the watch, flipping it around in his hand.

 

“I can’t really explain,” Derek said. “I think, it has to do with my soulmate. Especially if that watch really does belong to a god.”

 

“Your soulmate?”

 

“My soulmate… is a god,” Derek said slowly and suddenly he was blushing again. The words still felt strange in his mouth, and even though he knew it was true, he was sure other people would think it was a lie.

 

“Your soulmates a god…” Riley repeated.

 

“The god of magic, the crossroads, and necromancy,” Derek answered. “And trivial knowledge, but that’s less impressive. I don’t know if it really belongs to a god, or if the only reason you think it does is that I’ve said it here. But please, keep the watch. Give it to me, when my mother tells you about my soulmate. The first time she mentions him being a god, please, bring it to me? I’m sure she’ll mention him a few times before that, when I meet him and when he goes missing.”

 

“He goes missing?” Leta asked softly from beside him.

 

“Almost three years ago for me,” Derek answered. “I’ve been trying to get him home, he’s trapped on another plane of existence. I think this will help.”

 

“We’ll keep it,” Matias said even though Riley looked unsure of it. Derek took the watch he was holding in his other hand and held tightly on to it.

 

“The future sounds complicated,” Riley finally said. “But, if it makes it easier, we’ll keep the watch.”

 

“Thank you,” Derek said.

 

“You should get going,” Jason said. His hand came down on Derek’s shoulder, and he gripped it tightly. Derek suddenly wished that Stiles could have learnt how to be an emissary from Jason, instead of Deaton. The world around him went still, his grandmother and great uncles freezing where they stood. His grandfather, still holding his shoulder, guided Derek from the front hall and out the front door. The two of them walked for a while until the world outside was only darkness and Beacon Hill had faded away. “Time walking isn’t easy, but you do it well,” Jason told him.

 

“I didn’t even know about it,” Derek answered honestly.

 

“It’s not safe to do it often, attracts the wrong kind of attention,” he said. “Be careful, Derek. I look forward to meeting you.” He pulled Derek into a hug, a crushing, loving hug that made Derek miss his family terribly. He could feel the world below his feet start to crumble, and suddenly he was falling away from his grandfather. He felt himself hit the water again, sinking deeper and deeper until he woke with a start. He gasped and sat up in a way that he was sure wasn’t natural for a body. He took long deep breaths until his head stopped spinning and the world stilled. He looked around slowly for Hermes, who was sitting nearby on a fallen tree trunk. A hare on their lap and another two at their feet. The three hares were watching Derek carefully, clearly startled by his sudden movements.

 

“Morning,” Hermes said and put the hare on the ground. The three of them bolted into the trees and out of sight. “They weren’t so skittish when I lived on earth, evolution is weird.” Derek stared at Hermes for a minute, thinking of something to say to that, but instead said.

 

“How long did I sleep for?” They had walked for hours the day before, at one-point Derek could even hear the pack howling for him, but he didn’t answer them. He went on trailing silently behind Hermes until they were well out of the preserve and into the forest beyond that. Hermes had stopped suddenly, told Derek it was time to rest and had sat down on the fallen tree. Derek had done as he was told, stretched out on the ground, and slept until his dream woke him.

 

“Only a few hours. You can rest more if you think you’ll need it. You walked away last night, and that can’t have been very restful.”

 

“Walked away?” Derek asked.

 

“Mhmm, time walking,” Hermes said, popping a blueberry into their mouth, that they seemed to have conjured out of thin air.

 

“What?”

 

“Time walking,” Hermes repeated.

 

“Is that something I can do because of this… hound thing?” Derek asked.

 

“No, definitely not, Leto doesn’t control time. That’d be Chronos,” Hermes said.

 

“Zeus’ father?” he asked.

 

“No, that’s Cronus. This is… umm, oh, father time. The Moirai are some of his children,” Hermes said. “How’d you get to know Chronos anyway?”

 

“I don’t know Chronos,” Derek answered, and Hermes seemed to think about that for a minute before nodding their head.

 

“Not yet then,” they said. “You’ll meet him later if that’s the case. We should get going if you’re done with resting.” It was slow going after that, Hermes seemed to be occasionally lost or turned around, before suddenly darting in another direction that they insisted was the right way. Then, it suddenly was, and they came into a clearing with a huge rippling portal in the middle of it.

 

“Is this always here?” Derek asked.

 

“No, anyone could stumble into it, it moves. We’ll go through here, then a few more miles of hiking, a boat ride, and we’ll be able to enter the underworld,” Hermes answered. Hermes turned toward Derek and held out a water bottle that had definitely been conjured out of nothing. “Drink this. The first portal is dumpy, the second is killer.”

 

“Oh good,” Derek mumbled but took the bottle. He opened it and sniffed the water carefully when he was confident it was fine, he drank it. The water helped clear some of the lingering fog that had been hanging in his head all day. He finished the water, and Hermes took the bottle back, crushing it between their hands and making it disappear.

 

“Hold my hand as we go through, try and bend your knees when we land… um, you know what, just… just make sure you hold onto me, and hold your breath,” Hermes instructed. They held their hand out to Derek, and once Derek had taken it, they stepped through the portal. Derek felt the strangely familiar feeling of falling through darkness, and then his heart felt like it was in his throat and his body was being torn in different directions. He felt the scream ripped from his throat, and all he could do was cling to Hermes and beg that it was going to be over. It only lasted a few minutes and then Derek was heaved from the portal onto a dirty hardwood floor. He lost his grip on Hermes’ hand, as he hit the ground, but they both made it.

 

“Fuck,” Derek managed to say as Hermes leant over him.

 

“It’s not the easiest,” Hermes said softly. “Are you okay?”

 

“I don’t tend to bruise easily,” Derek answered. Hermes held out their hand, grabbing Derek’s arm, and helping him back to his feet. They were in, what looked to be, an old storage shed of some kind. There were nets and fishing rods scattered around the room like the owner didn’t care about it. Hermes pulled open a rickety wooden door, and Derek was hit with a cold breeze and the smell of the ocean. There was snow under his feet, as he stepped through the door, and onto the ground outside. “Where are we?” he asked.

 

“Few miles from Alert,” Hermes answered.

 

“Where?” Derek asked. The wind outside made the cold are too sharp against Derek’s skin.

 

“Canada, in Nunavut,” they answered as they walked. Derek guessed that the cold didn’t bother a god, but it was getting to him quickly. “Alert is the highest place north that’s inhabited.”

 

“And the Underworld is here?” he asked. Hermes laughed and shook their head.

 

“Nope, that would be easy, wouldn’t it? We still have a boat ride,” they answered. Derek could see the ocean in front of him, and bobbing lazily in the water was an old fishing boat.

 

“That doesn’t look safe,” Derek answered.

 

“Probably not, but if you die on the ocean, you’ll end up in the Underworld anyway,” Hermes said and shrugged their shoulders. Derek frowned but didn’t argue, Hermes was right. The boat wasn’t as bad as it seemed, once Derek had climbed into it. Hermes was confident, at least, as they pushed the boat away from the shore and they set out. It was colder on the ocean, and all Derek could do was wrap his jacket tighter around his body. It didn’t help, the cold wind cut through the leather like it wasn’t there, and made it seem stiff and breakable when he moved. He could feel the cold seeping into his toes and fingers and putting out the seemingly never-ending heat that normally burned just under his skin. Hermes took the boat further and further out until the land behind them seemed like a distant memory that Derek could barely remember. “You’re not going to like this next part,” Hermes said almost an hour later. The boat bobbed in the ocean, freezing water lapping at the wooden sides of the boat. It gently knocked them back and forth, once Hermes had stopped the boat.

 

“We’re jumping into the ocean, aren’t we?” Derek asked.

 

“Yup,” Hermes answered.

 

“Do I have to die to get into the Underworld?” he asked. He leantz slowly over the edge of the boat, staring down into the dark frozen water.

 

“Normally, but being a Hound of God you don’t. Looks like we got here early, just a few minutes now.” Derek just nodded head, he didn’t even look away from the water, instead, he tried to see into the darkness below them. Part of him was sure he could see something moving below the water, getting closer and closer the longer he stared at it. He kept his eyes fixed on whatever he thought was there, and then suddenly, there was a glowing row of eyes staring up at him. It was coming faster, getting bigger and bigger, until it was more than anything Derek had ever seen before. The waves started to rock harder, making Hermes lean over the edge of the boat like Derek was. “Our ride,” they said and climbed to their feet.

 

“What is it?” Derek asked.

 

“Better not ask,” Hermes said. “Come on, it’s going to knock the boat over. Better be ready to get into the water.” Derek got to his feet too, taking a deep breath, and trying to keep balanced as the boat rocked harder. There was a second where nothing happened, just the movement of the boat, and then everything exploded around them. Derek was in the air for a minute, and then he was in the water. The cold clung to him, making his limbs stop working, he couldn’t keep himself up and he couldn’t move in the water. Hermes was gone from his sight, and then the creature was breaching the water. It threw itself into the air, rising miles above him, and then it was crashing back down. Derek felt the creature collide with him, sending him under the water, and dragging him down. He had only managed to gasp in a lung full of air before he was being forced further away from the surface. The creature shrieked above him, it’s call echoing through Derek’s head and making his body convulse.

 

He finally managed to struggle against the water, as he twisted around, he suddenly could see the shifting mirrored surface of a portal below him. He felt a hand close around his arm, and suddenly he was being dragged deeper into the water. The cold made everything hurt, long since soaked through all his clothing, and into his bones. Hermes clutched his arm, dragging Derek through, passed and down, into the portal belong them. Derek heard the creature call a second time, as they hit the portal. Then, like before, he felt himself torn apart and thrown into the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This dream was originally written for chapter 5, but other things happened, so it got moved a million miles away.


	13. Chapter 13

He walked slowly down a winding trail, his feet guiding him through the dark forest like they’d walked it a million times. Maybe they had, maybe this was a place he had known forever but had forgotten this lifetime. His body ached as he went, he could feel the age in his limbs and his bodies refusal to cooperate. He was cold too like he had been walking through the Arctic unprotected. He lifted one of his hands in front of him, looking at the spider web of veins visible through his semi translucent skin. There were spots of age and scars from a life cut into him, and it made something settle comfortably in his chest. His hands were the hands of a long life lived. He’d reached the age where increased healing wasn’t enough, where things had slowed down, and his body had to deal with scars and pains. He pressed on down the path, through the darkness, toward a sudden burst of singing he could hear. He knew the voice as soon as he heard it, and he wanted to run to it, but all he could do was hurry. He stumbled, slipped and hurried along, as he tried to force his body to go faster. Stiles wasn’t singing in English, it was another language, probably long dead and unknowable. Derek found himself in the middle of a crossroad when he found Stiles. He was standing there, looking young and beautiful, and when he saw Derek his face split into a smile.

 

“Where have you been?” Stiles asked softly. “You died days ago, took your time getting here, didn’t you?” Stiles reached out for Derek. His hands found his face, running his fingers over the wrinkles there.

 

“I’m dead?” he asked. He suddenly remembered the boat, the creature, and sinking deeper into the depth of the ocean. He felt even colder then, a tremor spreading through his limbs.

 

“Claudia made me promise to tell her when I’d found you,” Stiles said and suddenly Derek was filled with a life not yet lived.

 

“You’ve found me,” Derek answered.

 

“I’ll always find you,” Stiles said, leaning forward and kissing him softly. He could feel the aches from his body leaving, slipping away like they’d never been there before. Stiles pulled back a moment later, and he looked so happy. Derek knew, without seeing, that he was young again. The age they had met and fallen in love. The age they had been when things were the hardest and most confusing.

 

“What happens now?” Derek asked.

 

“You can go to the Underworld, or you can come live with me in purgatory,” Stiles said.

 

“With you,” Derek answered immediately.

 

“You sure you want more of this?” Stiles asked gesturing at himself. “Just because you’re dead, doesn’t mean I’m going to stop getting mad at you. I’ll keep fighting and I’m not gonna stop laughing during sex.”

 

“Fighting always kept us going, and I’d miss your laughter,” Derek answered.

 

“You’re a sap,” Stiles said and then he was kissing Derek again. Derek held onto him, wrapped his arms around his waist and pulled him close.

 

“I love you,” Derek said against Stiles' lips but the words never came back to him. Instead, he was alone in a room full of light and stars. The stars spun slowly around him, making patterns in the darkness that slipped in and out of view. Derek found himself in the middle of it all, like the stars revolved around him, like there was nothing else in the world as important as being right there. He reached out toward them slowly and found that he could touch them. His fingers brushed over the burning heat of one of the stars, and he pulled his hand back to his chest. Then, he took another step forward, and reach for a different one. It was softer in light, moving slowly through the air, so he grabbed it. His hand closed around it, and he plucked it from the sky. It burned in his hand, making his palm blister and swell, then his body healed and the star cooled.

 

Derek watched the star flicker in his hand, twisting and warping into something else. Slowly, the burning red edges of the star seemed to bloom, curling down into dark pink and white petals. Derek was hit with a sickly-sweet smell, making him wrinkle his nose and his throat ache at the intrusion. The lily in his hand spun slowly before it sunk into his palm and vanished, his body filled with warmth again. It took the cold from his body and the shaking left his limbs. Then, a second later, he was slamming into the ground, he could taste dirt in his mouth and he choked on it. He scrambled against the ground, rocks slicing his hands as he forced himself to his feet.

 

“Are you okay?” Hermes asked, staring at him with wide eyes. Derek looked down at his palms, where the wounds were closing and forcing the gravel from his hands. There was a light near him, and when he looked back at Hermes, they were holding an old lantern in one hand.

 

“I’m fine,” he answered said. He felt like he had said those words so many times now, that they were starting to lose their meaning. They meant nothing anymore, like when someone you barely knew asked how your weekend was, so you said it was good because it’s the polite thing to do. The words were an automatic response, to a pointless question. Hermes didn’t seem to mind and nodded their head before offering Derek their hand. Derek clasped it tightly, letting the other drag him to his feet. “I think I blacked out,” Derek said.

 

“That’s not a surprise,” Hermes told him. Derek looked around when he was balanced, trying to see through the darkness to the world beyond it. The darkness made Derek’s stomach lurch, it felt like the darkness from his dreams, that faded in and out as he slept. He could hear noises, soft swishing of trees and rustling of leaves. “It gets easier the more you do it, but I think everyone passed out the first time. Come on, this way.” They were on a pathway, but the only reason Derek knew was because of the crunching of gravel below his feet and the way Hermes walked along it. It was nothing like the bright lights of Apollo’s Carnival or the vivid colours from his dreams. It was winding paths of darkness that seemed to have no end. If it weren’t for Hermes’ lantern, he was sure that he would have lost the other in the darkness. Derek could feel a growing painful panic spreading through his chest, and wondered if there was any reason to feel that way. “You can do this by yourself,” Hermes said after a few long minutes of silence.

 

“Do what?”

 

“Get to the Underworld, if you work on your magic abilities, you’ll be able to open and close portals yourself,” Hermes said.

 

“So, I can find the devil and his witches?” Derek asked, making Hermes laugh.

 

“Yeah, I guess if you wanted,” Hermes said.

 

“If… If I had been working on magic more, over these last two years, could… could I have opened a portal for Stiles to come through?” Derek asked.

 

“Probably,” Hermes answered, and it made bile rise in Derek’s throat. “But, you never could have known. So, you shouldn't blame yourself for it.”

 

“I’m not sure it’s that easy,” Derek said, and Hermes shrugged their shoulders making the lantern bounce.

 

“It can be, once you let yourself get there,” Hermes said. “But, it takes work to get there.”

 

“You’re certainly sound knowledgeable about that,” Derek said.

 

“I was drowned when I was alive,” Hermes said. “Found out I was a god after that. Took a lot of time to get over the hate I felt for those people. It was… it was hard because I could come and go. I could have gone to those people, I could have killed them. But, after a while… you learn to let it go. It’s never easy, and sometimes the thoughts creep back into my head, but then you just have to kick them out again.”

 

“I… I don’t think that’s really the same thing,” Derek said slowly. “That’s… so much worse.”

 

“It’s not a contest, Derek. Bad things happen to everyone, and they feel different to everyone too. Drowning, while I’m not saying was pleasant, ended things for me. I didn’t live with guilt or worries, I didn’t spend my whole life hating who I was, and worrying about what everyone thought of me. I never had that, and that… that seems almost impossible, but we must learn to deal with those thoughts. That’s part of life and death. If you fixate on those things, and never let them go… you become that hate, and… well, you might see what happens,” Hermes said.

 

“See?”

 

“Yes,” Hermes answered and Derek knew they wouldn't answer if he kept pushing.

 

“Should we be talking so much?” Derek asked.

 

“There isn’t anyone around to hear us if that’s what you're worried about. This is a side entrance. Did you think this was the way I carried all the souls?”

 

“How should I know?”

 

“Nope, side entrance. There are train stations that carry people down here. Then, they get to sort it out for themselves,” Hermes said. “I take them to the trains, but I figured, we don’t need anyone seeing us and raising the alarm too early.”

 

“Is there going to be an alarm?” Derek asked.

 

“Hades doesn’t really like it when souls leave the Underworld,” Hermes answered. “I don’t really know what will happen.”

 

“Stiles isn’t a soul,” Derek said.

 

“That’s why I don’t know. He might not care, but he also might not like us traipsing through his kingdom like it’s a shortcut home,” Hermes said. Suddenly, there was a bead of light in the distant, and Hermes started to move faster. “Just through there and we should be out into the Underworld, proper.” Derek followed Hermes, staying only a few steps behind them, racing toward the growing light. Then they were through it and standing in a huge open field. There was light pouring in from somewhere, rows and rows of flowers in bloom, and even further ahead something that looked like a small village. There were people milling around the fields. Ahead of them, looming huge and terrifying in the distance was a castle. It was made a blue-black stone, with curling spires of impossibly constructed shapes.

 

“I guess that’s where we’re going,” Derek said.

 

“It’s a monstrosity,” Hermes said. “Never stops looking like one to me. I think he just keeps adding to it because he knows it makes people uncomfortable.”

 

“How far away is it?” Derek asked.

 

“A few hours,” Hermes answered. “But, we’re in the Underworld now. So, if everything goes well, we’ll only have been gone for a few minutes by the time we get back to the overworld.”

 

“With Stiles,” Derek said softly.

 

“With Stiles,” Hermes echoed. Derek glanced at the god and wondered what was considered a good offering for them. When he got home, he wanted to give something to Hermes, in thanks.

 

“You said before… that you had a history with Hecate, what was it?” Derek asked. Hermes’ face suddenly turned pink, and Derek knew the answer to his question. Hermes started walking forward into the field, running their fingers along the tall plants as they passed. Derek followed a second later, trying to stay in the path that Hermes was creating through the plants.   

 

“I was her consort,” Hermes answered.

 

“Like Apollo was,” Derek said and Hermes huffed a little.

 

“Yes, like Apollo was and like Helios was. Hecate’s always loved the sun.”

 

“Doesn’t explain me,” Derek answered.

 

“Me either. But, Hecate and I, we weren’t… we weren’t soulmates. That’s a different kind of love. We were company to each other, once our soulmates were long gone,” Hermes explained. “The version of Hecate that was my lover is gone. It hasn’t been too long, she faded a few years after Stiles was born. I… I loved her very much, and because of that, I want to protect her. I want to protect what is left of her, even if it’s only the power that she once had. There is no reason to keep Hecate from being happy, just because I miss her. I had my time with her, just as Apollo did, and just as you will,” Hermes explained. Derek thought, that Hermes was the opposite of Apollo. Instead of anger and hate for what Hecate had done, or had happened to her. Hermes loved what had been and what was. “Well… maybe, you’ll get to be the luckiest one. You two don’t need to be apart after you die, you can travel from hell and back whenever you want. If you played your cards right, you could be immortal.”

 

“So, I can stay with Stiles forever?” Derek asked.

 

“If you both want it, and if no one is stronger than Stiles,” Hermes explained.

 

“Stronger?”

 

“If someone is born and then become more powerful than Stiles, then he will fade and another will take his place,” Hermes said.

 

“Is that what happens to all of you?” Derek asked.

 

“Yes and no… gods have a different kind of life. We are more like parasites,” Hermes answered. “But, gods can retire and move on early too. The ones that choose to move on, they get to go to the Underworld and live there. They can be with their families and loved ones again. The ones who don’t are doomed to fade. Some are luckier than others, Apollo being one of them, but eventually, the ones who don’t move one will fade.”

 

“Will that happen to me?” Derek asked and Hermes stopped. They seemed to be thinking about what he said and finally settled on shrugging their shoulders.

 

“I don’t know. Leto has the option to do what she likes with the Hounds. She could take it away, give it to someone else, do whatever she likes. But, she’s never done it before… I also don’t think that ones been mated to a god before either. New things all the time,” Hermes said.

 

“Do you realise your fading, before you're gone?” Derek asked.

 

“Of course.”

 

“Then why not just go to the Underworld then?”

 

“Because it means more, when you give up what is left of you,” Hermes answered. “It is a powerful gesture, that can give your future lines more power. A known sacrifice.” They came out on the other side of the field, walking briskly, but not really rushing. It made Derek antsy. There was something in the pit of Derek’s stomach, running through him and making him want to shift and race toward the castle. He didn’t know if it was because he wanted to reach Stiles, or because it was part of him as a Hound of God. He managed to push the thoughts away, focus on Hermes, and the world around them.  They were getting closer and closer to the people ahead of them, only for Hermes to stop suddenly and look at Derek. “Don’t… don’t talk to anyone here. They look human but they aren’t, and they’ll know what you are.”

 

“I barely know what I am,” Derek answered, but then he nodded his head.

 

“You’re full of power Derek, and it is a power they’d like to have. Your power would give them the ability to leave the Underworld. They could walk out, the same way we walked in. We don’t want them walking earth, it’s… it would be really bad. If you don’t say anything, they shouldn’t be able to see you. Don’t even talk to me,” Hermes explained. “Well, none of the people will see you. Cerberus is going to see you.”

 

“Cerberus?” Derek asked sharply. “Giant three-headed dog, Cerberus?”

 

“I guess I forgot about him. You will need to get past him,” Hermes said.

 

“How?”

 

“The hero has to work that out,” Hermes answered and Derek felt panic spread through his body. “You’ll be fine. You’re really strong.”

 

“That’s not reassuring,” Derek snapped stuffing his hands into his pockets. He had the sudden need to feel smaller, wanting to force his body in closer to itself. He closed his hand around the watch in one pocket, feeling too hot against his hand. His other hand found something in the other pocket, cold to the touch, unlike the watch. Derek pulled it out of his pocket, staring down at the pockmarked stone. Hermes seemed to notice it, as soon as it was out of his pocket, stopping long enough to look at him.

 

“Where did you get a star?” they asked. Derek looked at them, shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. Hermes stared at it for a minute longer, and then shrugged back at Derek. “Be careful, they can explode,” then they had turned back around and were walking again. Hermes was right, as they came to where the people were, they didn’t seem to notice Derek. He could stand close by Hermes, as the people greeted Hermes and spoke with them, and none of them even looked at Derek. They were busy with tending the next field they had reached. Derek watched them, as the people offered Hermes food and drinks, but Hermes turned them down.

 

“Can’t be too careful, Zeus might tell me I have to live down here,” they said and winked at a woman. She giggled at Hermes, but nodded her head and took back her offering of honey. There was something weird about the people around them, the way they moved was almost disjointed. Derek followed Hermes, as they kept walking further and further through the next field and the people there. Hermes had no problem talking to any of them. Hermes was charming and kind, with just a hint of mischief in their eye, that the people around them seemed to like. They slipped from person to person, glancing back on and off, to make sure that Derek was still following. Then, the reached the village and paved stone paths. The people in the village didn’t seem to pay as much attention to Hermes, too busy with whatever work it was that they were doing.

 

Suddenly, Derek could hear Hermes heartbeat get faster, and he realised that he hadn’t even noticed that Hermes had a heartbeat until that moment. He couldn’t remember hearing it, or even trying to hear it. Hermes was slowing down, shuffling a little, and only had a second to look back at Derek and hiss, “don’t move.” Then, Derek could hear footsteps coming toward them like someone was walking through mud. A soft squish and shift, that the hard ground below them couldn’t make. Derek saw the creature next, a thing that was human shaped but like it was made of tar. Black ooze poured from its body, leaving an ink black trail, that shown rainbow in the light. The people in the village moved away from it, slipped back into their house or around corners, not wanting it to approach them.

 

Derek froze on the spot, tensing behind Hermes, and even more desperate to sink in on himself. The creature kept approaching until it stood in front of Hermes, and then it paused. Derek watched its head spin from one side to the other, sniffing at the air like a wolf might. Then, it turned back to Hermes and stared at him with clouded opal coloured eyes. “Hermes,” it said slowly. Its voice bubbled out of its throat, sending a mouthful of tar cascading down the front of its body.

 

“Hello Iovita, how are you today?” Hermes asked, seeming just as cheerful as they had just moments before.

 

“Are you travelling with a human today?” it asked.

 

“Nope,” Hermes answered. Derek was reassured by the steady beating of Hermes’ heart, unchanged by their lie. Iovita seemed to be listening to it as well because they let out a bubble of laughter.

 

“Did you give yourself a heartbeat, just for me?”

 

“Well, I stopped hiding it,” Hermes answered. “Bit rude that you can’t see me, so what not let you hear me.”

 

“Who is your companion?” Iovita asked, taking another step toward Hermes. Derek felt his heart slam against his ribs in panic, and he knew there was no way to hide it from the creature. Its lips curled into something that looked like a smile, and it took another shuffling step forward.

 

“My gift to the new Hecate,” Hermes answered.

 

“And you bring it through our home?” it asked. There was something almost snake-like about the creature in front of them. The way its voice seemed to hiss as it bubbled from its throat, and the way its body seemed to sway where it stood.

 

“It’s a surprise,” Hermes answered. “Plus, you know how hard it is to maintain a portal large enough for a second living creature. I’m not made of power.” Hermes was laughing as they spoke like the whole thing was obvious and trivial.

 

“What kind of gift have you brought her?” Iovita asked.

 

“Him,” Hermes said. “Hecate is a him, this time.”

 

“What kind of gift have you brought her?” Iovita repeated, and Hermes got a look of sudden annoyance on their face.

 

“Well, it’s been great seeing you, Iovita, but I have to get going,” Hermes said harshly. Hermes shifted just enough to grab Derek’s arm, to keep Derek behind them. Then, slowly Hermes moved around Iovita, trying to get past it and the mess of tar pooling around its feet.

 

“It smells like a wolf,” it said. One of its hands lifted from its side, reaching past Hermes, trying to catch Derek’s arm. Derek’s heart was still hammering in his ribs, his stomach twisting painfully, making him feel like he was going to puke. Hermes yanked Derek another step, but then the creatures hand was around Derek’s arm, and it hurt. Derek bit his tongue, so hard that it was bleeding, but it wasn’t enough to stop the scream that was ripped from him. Suddenly, the doorways were full of people, staring out at the noise, with wide hungry looks on their faces.

 

“Shit,” Hermes managed, but then someone was grabbing at them too.

 

“What it is?” the person asked.

 

“Nothing,” Hermes snapped, but Derek was being dragged further away from Hermes and into the sticky mess of the creature.

 

“A hound,” it said like it was sighing. Derek stumbled forward, his feet catching in the tar, then there was laughter bubbling out of the creature. The tar was climbing up his legs, seeping through the fabric of his jeans, holding him in place. Derek turned frantically to look at Hermes, not sure if he should attack or keep still. The people were crowded around Hermes, pulling him back away from the tar and away. Derek turned back to the creature, he forced out his claws and tore at its face. He roared at the creature, but instead of knocking it back or away, it pulled him in deeper. The tar from the face clung to his hands, wrapping around his fingers and climbing up his arms like it was swallowing him whole. He shouted again, fangs bared and spitting hatred at the creature in front of him. “A hound.” He heard it say again, this time like a high-pitched wail of excitement. Derek managed a growl but now the tar was on his shoulders and racing up his neck and face. It was crawling into his mouth, pouring down his throat, and stopping him from breathing. He only had a second longer, before the world went dark in front of his eyes.

 

For a minute, there was nothing, and Derek was sure he was going to die. Pain filled his chest as his body tried to suck in air, and instead of getting lungfuls of tar. Then, something else was closing around him, like a hand wrapping around his whole body. He was ripped back from the tar, and choking desperately for air. He was placed back down on the ground, and the world seemed too bright now. The creature was sinking away from him, and the people were racing from the road toward the field. Derek finally saw what had saved him. It was another creature, huge with brown skin stretched over crooked bones, and wrapped in billowing white fabric. There were giant wings coming from their ankles, stretched and flapping as it hovered over them. They had long curls of golden brown hair, wrapped around their head like a halo, and there were two more wings coming from where their ears should have been. They were the source of the new light, it seemed to be pouring from their body. Derek stared up at them, gasping in lungful and lungful of air. He could see if Hecate loved the sun, why she would have fallen in love with Hermes.

 

 “I told you to stop,” Hermes said with a voice that made the village shake. “I told you to stop, you miserable little creature.” Hermes reached out, grabbed the creature as it tried to flee and crushed it between their hands. The tar bubbled and popped, and Derek could hear bones crushing between Hermes’ palms. Derek could see blood now, pouring down alongside the tar, and then Hermes dropped the mess that was left onto the ground. Hermes turned slowly, to look back down at him, and it made Derek’s breath catch in his throat. He didn’t know if angels were real, but if they weren’t, this was the creature that inspired them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The most talkative version of Derek, I think. But, I needed a way to get questions answered and no one else is around to ask them.


	14. Chapter 14

The people were gone now, leaving them alone on the long empty stone streets. The lights in the windows of the houses had turned off, and the doors that had been open were closed now. The people had drawn their curtains too, and Derek could hear stutters slamming around them. Even through the tar, he was covered in, Derek could smell their terror. He wondered how often these people saw gods like that. How often anyone saw gods like that? Was it something that happened often, or did it only happen when the god was in trouble? When their smaller bodies weren’t powerful enough to take on their enemy? Then, he wondered if Stiles had that ability too. Could he shift into something else? The thought made Derek’s heart skip a beat. He didn’t know why he liked the idea of both having the ability to shift, but he did. How would Stiles look, shifted from his normal body into something else? Would he be huge like Hermes was? Or was it different for each god?

Derek turned his attention to Hermes and watched as their body shrunk back down, the white fabric snaking back around their body into clothing, and a few minutes later they were the same young androgynous person they had been before. Hermes looked embarrassed then, as they wiped their hands off on their pants, and then laughed a little. “Sorry,” they said, but all Derek did was shake his head a little. “Come on, let’s keep going. The alarm is sounded now, Hades is going to know we’re here by the time we reach him.” 

Derek got to his feet as Hermes kept trying to scrub the tar from their hands, looking more and more frustrated as it didn’t seem to want to wipe away. Derek stayed a step further away from Hermes, feeling terrified and in awe of the other. “Thank you,” Derek said softly making Hermes look at him.

“What? Oh, you’re welcome. I honestly think Hecate would have killed me if you’d been absorbed, and Leto wouldn’t have been very happy either,” Hermes said. 

“What… what was that thing?” Derek asked.

“My shifted form, I thought that was pretty obvious,” Hermes said.

“No… No, the creature,” Derek said, gesturing to the blood and tar coating the street.

“Oh! Oh, that’s what happens when you let your pain take over. When you focus on it and let it consume you. Like I said earlier, if you fixate on your problems, you become them. That creature was all that was left of a hateful man,” Hermes said and started toward the castle again. They had to move carefully along the street, to avoid the mess of tar and death that was there now.

“Could it see?” Derek asked once they were clear of the gore.

“No, that one was blind. They couldn’t see past their hate, so they were punished to not see anything at all,” Hermes explained.

“Is that how it always is?”

“The punishments are different for each of them. Hopefully, we don’t run into any more of them. They don’t tend to travel the villages. It’s easier for them out in the fields and forest, better to come across someone trying to sneak in, anyway.” 

“But, it knew me,” Derek said softly. “It knew… it knew what I was.”

“It can smell and hear well,” Hermes said. “I should have been more careful. I had hoped it wouldn’t notice you, but it’s not the same as the people here. The people have never been anywhere else, this is their whole world. They want the power, but they don’t always see it. Something about their eyes not picking up on things from the world above. But, those creatures, they were humans once. They know what human power looks and feels like.” 

“I feel like I should know this stuff,” Derek said.

“You’ll learn it,” Hermes said. “It’s not like we share a lot of information about the Underworld with the Overworld.” They lapsed into silence then, and Derek trudged along behind Hermes. The god was clean now, no traces of tar lingering on their clothing. Derek, on the other hand, was still coated in it, leaving a trail of sticky footprints on the ground as he walked. He could feel it on his eyelids as he blinked, making him uncomfortably aware of how often it was happening. His hands were no better, leaving spider web thin threads between his fingers as he moved them. When he breathed he could feel and hear rattling in his lungs and as the air ran over his tongue it tasted bitter. He wanted to ask Hermes for help cleaning it away, but it suddenly felt like a poor use of Hermes powers.

The village seemed to go on for hours, but Hermes seemed to know where they were going and had no problem weaving through the streets. At one point, they even started to hum, a carefree kind of song that honestly made Derek feel more nervous. None of the creatures left their homes as they passed them, no more of them excitedly greeted Hermes with gifts or stories. Derek suspected that word had run through the whole village about Hermes. Derek could see the people as they passed each house, peering through their windows at him. They had hungry, desperate looks in their eyes, and it made Derek hurry closer to the god. Derek felt out of place here, his stomach twisting inside of him, and made him feel nauseous. Each step he took felt strange like he could float away at any moment, and it would make just as much sense as anything else. “Can I ask you something?” Derek finally said as they rounded a corner onto a new empty street.

“Sure,” Hermes answered.

“Can all gods do what you did back there?” 

“You mean shift?” Hermes asked. 

“Yes.”

“If they have enough power and training. Sometimes it doesn’t come naturally to them, so they never bother to learn how to do it. I always found it easy to step into my next form, but I know some gods don’t. Like, Apollo for example. He has enough power, but either can’t force the shift or thinks that form is ugly or something dumb like that. His loss really if he wasn’t so weird about it, I bet he could have taken Stiles by force if he had just shifted. Most creatures get a new form after death or with enough power,” Hermes answered. “Or, sometimes it’s just part of them. Like for weres of all species.” 

“How can you tell when you’re strong enough?” Derek asked. Hermes looked back over their shoulder and smiled at him.

“How could you tell you were ready to shift?” Hermes asked. Derek thought for a second and then shrugged his shoulders.

“I just knew,” Derek said. “I… I could suddenly feel something more inside my chest, then there was nothing I could do but let it out.”

“It’s the same. There is a moment in time, when you realise, ‘Oh, there is something bigger inside of me. Something else that wants to be.’ Then, you focus on it, and suddenly you’re something else.”

“So, Stiles…?” Derek asked slowly and Hermes laughed. Hermes looked back at Derek again and grinned widely.

“Does the idea of it excite your wolf?” Hermes asked and Derek felt his face go red. Hermes laughed again, loud but musically. 

“Oh, Hecate can shift, and it’s glorious,” Hermes said.

“C-could you tell me, why it looks like?” Derek asked.

“Only a little, each version of a god shifts a little differently, but Hecate is made of moonlight and stars,” Hermes said their voice sounding a little dreamy. “My Hecate was fierce and powerful. I’m sure Stiles’ will be different, I haven’t really spent a lot of time with him, but he seems the type to do things a little differently.” Derek tried to picture what a creature made of moonlight and stars looked like, but he was sure that the image in his mind was wrong. He felt his wolf whine inside of him like it was suddenly desperate for the knowledge. It was a strange, disjointed feeling, and Derek wasn’t sure what to do with it. So, he ignored it in favour of picturing Stiles, just as he was, and his wolf settled. His stomach twisted painfully again, and Derek winced at the feeling.

They finally reached the edge of the village, where there was another field and a huge forest between them and the castle. Hermes spun their hand around in front of themselves and suddenly had the old lantern in hand again. “Is this going to be more or less dangerous than the village?” Derek asked. 

“Depends on what’s crawling around,” Hermes answered making Derek frown “It’s not that cut and dry Derek. The field looks fine, and word of my Hulking out might have spread through the forest. Traveling with a god is normally a safe thing... Some creatures are just really desperate.”

“I’ve noticed,” Derek mumbled, running his fingers against the stickiness of his palms. 

“Field, forest, castle. Easy,” Hermes said like they were walking through a children television show. Derek frowned at Hermes again, feeling how his shoes stuck to the ground and didn’t want to pull away as he stepped. Derek knew, as they started across the field, that he’d be covered in plants when they reached the other side, but he said nothing. He followed the path Hermes made, just like he did through the other fields. He was honestly surprised, when they made it through the field and into the forest, without issue. Finding themselves on a worn dirt path that was weathered by time and travellers. 

“Easy,” Derek mumbled as they continued. He knew it had been hours since they had come through the portal, and Derek could feel fatigue tugging at his limbs and slowing him down. He was suddenly beyond tired, and moving was becoming more and more of a struggle. It wasn’t until he stumbled over his feet that Hermes seemed to notice anything was wrong at all. 

“Derek?” Hermes asked in time for Derek to collapse to the ground. He took in a sharp breath, and the vomited onto the ground. Tar slashed against the dirt, sending specks of it onto Derek’s arms as he braced himself. “Shit,” Hermes snapped. Hermes took a step around him, looking at the vomit for a minute, before swearing again and taking another step past Derek. “Don’t move, just… shit, just stay here. I’ll be back. I’ll go into the village and get you something to fix that. Just, come on,” Hermes pulled Derek back up and into a sitting position. “Just sit against this tree, take deep breaths, try not to puke again, and I’ll be back soon.” Derek managed a soft groan, he couldn’t have gone anywhere even if he had wanted to. Hermes let him go, and after a second of looking around took off in the direction of the village. Derek let his head lull to the side, watching Hermes’ figure shrink as he got further away until they were nothing but a dot disappearing in the distance. 

He could feel his body trying to go to sleep, like it wanted to shut down and reboot, to see if it would fix the problem. He blinked his eyes over and over to try and clear the sleep from them. Instead, each blink made his eyes burn, the tar still sticking to his eyelashes, making them feel tacky. He didn’t know how long he had sat there, trying to breathe past the rattling of his lungs, and ignore the way each breath caused a painful stab through his chest. The tar must have ended up in his lungs, he thought and wondered if his healing could force his lungs clean. He thought idly about how sick he had been after Kate, how his body had shut down and ached no matter how he moved. He thought of how his body had become infected and unable to fix itself. He thought about how this felt a lot like that had. Then, there were hands on him again, sliding up his side and coming to rest in the middle of his stomach. “Hermes?” he managed to ask. He realised that his eyes had closed at some point, and opening them again was a struggle.

“You’re okay,” the voice said and it startled Derek. He shifted forward, the pain in his lung exploding through his chest, as he finally focused on the face in front of him.

“Stiles?” he managed.

“Hello,” he said softly. His one hand had moved to the middle of Derek’s chest, and the other one was now pressing softly against his cheek.

“Why are you here? Oh my god, Stiles, how did you get here? I was coming to get you. Did—” Derek coughed painfully. “Did Hermes find you?”

“Yes,” Stiles answered. “Come on, it’s okay, I’ll make the pain go away.” His voice was so soft and distant, flickering in and out and Derek thought he might pass out any second. He fought against it again, reached out and grabbed at Stiles, trying to pull him into a hug.

“Stiles,” Derek said his voice cracking. He wanted to pull Stiles in and hold him until it hurt, but Stiles didn’t move. Derek could feel tears in his eyes, threatening to escape and make him even more of a mess. Stiles just shushed Derek softly and smiled at him. The hand that had been on his chest moved slowly until it was slipping under the hem of his shirt. There was a burning heat, that spread through Derek’s chest and seemed to make the tar settled deeper. 

“Let’s get you out of your jacket,” Stiles said.

“Can you get rid of this fucking tar?” Derek asked.

“Yes,” Stiles said. Derek shifted back and forth as Stiles pulled him out of his jacket, and then he was tugging Derek’s shirt up and over his head. “Yes,” Stiles repeated as he moved from the ground into Derek’s lap. Derek coughed painfully again, spitting tar from his lips onto Stiles' chest.

“What are you doing?” Derek asked, but Stiles shushed him again. His hands settled on Derek’s chest again making Derek hiss at the contact. The burning heat came back and spread through him again. It felt like flames were racing through him, catching each part of his soul, and leaving behind tiny fires. The tar felt heavy inside of him, dragging deeper and deeper down until the pain was too much and Derek shouted.

“Stiles,” Derek managed to say before he was coughing again. “Stiles, it hurts.” 

“Don’t worry,” Stiles said. “Don’t worry, it’ll be over soon.” 

“What will be over?” Derek asked but Stiles was leaning forward. Derek could feel Stiles’ breath on his lips, and he realised it was wrong. The whole thing was wrong. Stiles’ lips pressed to his, and it felt like acid was burning him away. He managed to push Stiles—no—whatever this thing was back. He forced himself to focus and was aware that the thing had no heartbeat. There were no breathing noises, sounds of clothing rubbing together, or even the click of the jaw as the creature swallowed. Derek pushed against it again, with enough strength that he sent it to the ground. He was suddenly hit with a burning rancid smell, like rotting flesh and old death. It flooded his sense, burned his nose and eyes, making his cough again. 

“Let me take the pain away,” the thing said with Stiles' voice.

“No,” Derek snapped. The creature crawled back toward him, one hand landing on Derek’s leg, and gripping tightly. 

“I can make the pain go away. I can make all your pain stop. Just let me fuck you,” it hissed. The voice sounded less and less like Stiles, as each word was said. Derek jerked his leg away from the creature, grunting as he tried to force himself to his feet. “You can’t get away from me, you’re too weak. Full of hate sickness and poison thoughts. It’s going to run you down, drag you deeper and deeper until you’re nothing but a black mess of tar and anger. I can make that go away.”

“By fucking me?” Derek snapped. He had made it to his feet, but he was unsteady. His head was spinning and he wanted to vomit again. Instead, he pressed himself back against the tree for support and stared down at the creature. It barely looked like Stiles anymore, and Derek wasn’t even sure it ever really had. It seemed to slither forward on the ground, hands reaching and grabbing at his thighs. He could feel nails pressing against the denim of his jeans, scrapping like they were trying to get through. 

“A final fuck,” the creature said sweetly. “Don’t all men, dream of dying that way?” Then, in a flash, the creature was sent flying back away from Derek. 

“Shit,” Hermes said. They were standing a few feet away panting, chest heaving as they clutched a bouquet of white flowers against their chest. Suddenly, the panic that he been there was replaced with anger. “What are you doing? Are you insane?” Hermes shouted. The creature turned to look at them, and now it looked like a young woman. She was gorgeous, with long flaming hair and shining eyes. 

“Me or it?” Derek snapped as he sagged against the tree.

“Both of you!” Hermes said stomping up to Derek. “I told you to stay still.” 

“I’m sorry, but I—” Derek choked and coughed out a mouthful of tar. “I was trying not to get fucked by that.”

“And you!” Hermes shouted turned back to the creature.

“I’m doing my job,” she snapped bitterly. 

“That’s Hecate’s soulmate!” he shouted and suddenly the creature looked terrified. “That’s right! You tried to fuck your mother’s new soulmate, you’re a psycho!” 

“What?” Derek asked but Hermes didn’t seem to hear him.

“Have you talked with the new form? Have you met him?” 

“No… of course not! I’m guarding the path, I’m doing my job! I didn’t know there was a new form,” she snapped again.

“Go back to purgatory, find your mother, and met her new form! I can’t believe… I can’t believe you tried. Holy shit, that means you even took his form! You took the form of Hecate! You took the form of a god! You’re insane. You’re so lucky I’m the one that caught you, Empusa. You’re so lucky it wasn’t Hades, holy shit. Taking the form of a god!” Hermes was still shouting at the creature. She was still on the ground; her face had gone red with anger or embarrassment. Hermes shoved the flowers into Derek’s hand and stormed toward the Empusa. “Where is Lamia? Has she met Hecate? Get her too! Holy shit!” Hermes shouted for another few minutes, but the words floated away from Derek, and suddenly he was hitting the ground again. Derek heard the word shit a few more times, and then something was being forced into his mouth. There was a bitter, burning taste on his tongue, and then he was vomiting again. His whole body seized over and over as the tar poured out of him. 

“He’d have been better off with my solution,” Empusa said and Derek was relieved that he could hear again. 

“Your. Mother’s. Soulmate. You psycho,” Hermes said. 

“He’ll be vomiting for hours,” Empusa said.

“He’s a wolf,” Hermes said.

“Oh…” Empusa said and then everything else was silent. Derek kept vomiting until there was nothing left inside of him, and he hurt all over. Hermes was moving him after that, lifting him up and away from the mess of tar and vomit, and carrying him. Derek wanted to struggle against the god, try to get to his feet, and walk himself, but he couldn’t. He wasn’t used to being carried, it was uncomfortable, and felt unnatural for him. He was too big, and Hermes was too small, but that didn’t seem to matter. A minute later, Derek was being put back down against another tree off the path. 

“You need to sleep for a while,” Hermes said softly. 

“Stiles,” Derek managed to say.

“Stiles isn’t going anywhere,” Hermes said. “No one's going anywhere. Go to sleep, Derek. Let yourself heal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Derek'll get to be happy one day, I promise.


	15. Chapter 15

There were humming noises around him, the sound of something spinning, and then a painfully loud buzzer ringing. He realised that he was looking at a virtual slot machine, a digital total frantically ticked upwards at the bottom of the screen. “Oh, lucky guy,” a woman standing behind him said. He turned to look at her, and she was grinning widely at him with dark red lips. She was short, dressed in a 1920’s style flapper dress, with a short black bob decorated with a band of white gems. She tilted her head to the side, and the lights above her bounced off the gems in her hair. She had one hand planted firmly on her hip, and the other was holding up a waiter’s tray. “I’m Ingard. Can I get you a drink?” she asked.

 

“I’m good,” Derek answered, but she just rolled her eyes.

 

“Come on, baby grand, what can I get you? You’re winning big, celebrate a little,” she said. Her smile shifted quickly to a pout.

 

“I don’t know, a soda?” he said lamely.

 

“A soda and?” she prompted. Her voice was a little on the higher end of the spectrum and it made Derek’s ears ring, just a little. She had a stereotypical New Yorkers accent that added to how impatient she looked. Derek pinched his eyebrows together and frowned at her. She let out a light burst of laughter and then nodded.

 

“Come on, pick your poison,” she said.

 

“I’m a werewolf,” he answered and she rolled her eyes dramatically.

 

“And I’m a New Year’s baby, what’s your point?” she said. Derek kept staring at her, and finally, she sighed and said. “It’s a dream, you goof, doesn’t matter what you order.”

 

“Then why do you keep asking?” Derek asked, raising an eyebrow. She let out another laugh and then nodded at him.

 

“Okay, baby grand, I’ll bring you whatever,” she said and then was gone with a wink. Derek turned back to the machine, a box had appeared in the middle of his screen, reminding him to gamble responsibly and asking him to set a time limit. He reached out and tapped the five-minute box, the box disappeared, and the game started back up. He reached for the button to make the machine spin again, but then he wondered, what he was even gambling with. He heard Ingrid’s laugh again, and he turned to look toward the sound. She was handing a woman a drink, the woman handed Ingrid a few dollars, and thanked her. Then, Ingrid was walking up to him again, and offering him a bitter smelling drink.

 

“It’ll put hair on your chest,” she said and winked at him.

 

“I have hair on my chest,” Derek answered making her snort with laughter again.

 

“You’re too cute,” she said. He reached into his pocket, digging around for a moment.

 

“I don’t have money,” Derek said suddenly when he realised he didn’t have his wallet on him. He didn’t have his phone either and wondered where and when he had lost them. He didn’t know why but suddenly the drink seemed so important, and for some reason, he needed it. He dug into his jacket pockets and his hands closed around the star and the watch. He pulled them both out, looking at the burnt lump of rock and then the golden watch. It sat warm and heavy in his hand, and when he looked back up at Ingrid, he thought he should give it to her. “Here,” he said as he held it out to her.

 

“Oh, not yet, baby grand,” she said softly and smiled. She reached out slowly and closed his hand back around the watch. “I’ll come get that later. This drinks on me,” she said and put the drink down next to him on a ledge near the machine. Derek tucked both objects back into his pockets, and then slowly looked back at her.

 

“Are you—”

 

“Yes,” she said and winked at him. “We’ll be friends later, Derek. Promise. Drink that quick, it will help.” Then she was sauntering off, her hips swaying in a way that reminded him of Erica. She lifted and dipped the tray on her hand over and around people until she was out of sight. The bell rung on his machine again, making Derek turn to face it. He didn’t remember pressing the button at all, but the total kept rising on his screen, and Derek watched the numbers until they stopped. The box popped up on his screen, reminding him it had been five minutes, and he could add more time or cash out. He tapped the cash out button, making the machine whir and hum for a minute, before spitting out a short white ticket with just over five thousand dollars printed on it. He took the drink in hand, and then got to his feet, unsure where he was going now, but headed in the direction of Ingrid. He found her at the bar, giggling at something one of the people was saying.

 

“Hey,” Derek said, and she smiled at him.

 

“Chasing me?” she asked.

 

“Other way around, I think,” he said.

 

“Time catches all of us,” she said. He held out the ticket to her and shrugged his shoulders.

 

“Not you,” he said. She took the ticket from him and raised an eyebrow at him.

 

“Bit much for a drink,” she said.

 

“I don’t need it,” he answered. She smiled softly at him and then tucked the ticket into a pocket on her dress. “An offering,” he said, once he’d decided that’s what it was.

 

“Money isn’t my thing,” she said.

 

“I don’t have honey on me.”

 

“Now wouldn’t that be a dream. Next time, we’ll put honey on you, I bet Hecate would like that,” she told him.

 

“Stiles,” Derek said and she nodded her head. “Until he tells me otherwise.”

 

“Of course. Stiles,” she said. “Now drink that up.”

 

“What will this do?” Derek asked.

 

“Make you forget,” she answered.

 

“Forget what?”

 

“Whatever you’d like,” she said.

 

“I don’t want to forget anything,” he said firmly and she smiled warmly at him.

 

“It could take away bad memories or painful feelings. It could take away the loneliness from the last three years of your life.”

 

“The loneliness makes the reunion better, if I didn’t have the last three years, I would be here,” Derek said. Ingrid kept smiling at him, but she rolled her eyes and took the drink from his hand.

 

“I didn’t know you were such a sap, you hide it so well in the future,” she said. She turned around to the bar tender and waved at him. The man handed her two drinks this time, and she turned back to Derek with them. She held the first one up in front of her and raised her eyebrows. “This one will make you yearn. It’ll keep you alive when things get harder.”

 

“Are things going to get a lot harder?” he asked.

 

“You have scars in the future, Derek,” Ingrid said. She held up the other drink and nodded at it. “This one will make you unstoppable.”

 

“Okay,” Derek said softly, and then reached out and took the first drink she had just offered him.

 

“Most people would go with unstoppable,” she said, cradling the drink against her chest. “You’ll never be hurt again if you take this one.” Derek quirked his lips up in a smile, and then he pressed the one he had chosen to his lips, tilted his head back drinking it all at once. He could feel it down his throat, through his chest, and into his stomach. It spread through him freezing his blood and cooling a pain he didn’t even realise had been there. He offered the glass to Ingrid, and she gingerly took it from him. She put both glasses down on the counter and turned back to him again. “I’ll see you soon, Derek.”

 

“Will I know you?” he asked.

 

“Yes, but I won’t know you,” she told him and then waved her hand around. “Stumbling through timelines.”

 

“I’ll return your watch when we get there,” he said.

 

“Thank you,” she answered. She took a step toward him, pushed herself up on her tiptoes, and dragged Derek down to her height. Then she pressed a kiss to his cheek, and suddenly, Derek was awake. His heart jolted in his ribs, and when he opened his eyes he was looking out at the darkness.

 

“Hermes?” Derek called, and then there was a hand on his arm.

 

“Hey, how are you feeling?”

 

“Fine, I think… I…”

 

“You think?”

 

“Never mind,” he answered. He moved slowly, stretching out his limbs and climbing back to his feet. “We should go. Through the forest and to the castle, easy, right?”

 

“As easy as you let it be,” Hermes answered.

 

“Then easy,” Derek said. Hermes wave their hand and lead Derek back to the path. It was empty now, he didn’t know if Hermes had cleaned up the vomit and tar or if it was behind them, but he didn’t dwell on it. Instead, he started forward, falling into step next to Hermes until they were walking next to each other in silence. They walked for what seemed like hours, twisting down the long pathway. Hermes finally stopped, as the path ahead of them turned sharply to the left. They turned to look at Derek, smiling like they wanted to look reassuring, but Hermes only looked worried.

 

“Around this corner is it, we’re in front of the castle,” Hermes said, they glanced toward the path and then back to Derek. “You will have to fight your way inside.”

 

“Cerberus,” Derek said and Hermes nodded.

 

“I can’t help you with that. I’m not allowed. I… I probably shouldn’t even be bringing you here, but I’ve read the old myths. Gods don’t listen to rules.”

 

“What’s your name?” Derek asked suddenly.

 

“What?”

 

“Your name… do you always go by Hermes? Or do you have another name?”

 

“Quinn is my chosen name,” they answered smiling a little.

 

“Thank you, Quinn,” Derek said. Quinn seemed pleased with him saying their name, but then they shook their head and laughed a little.

 

“Keep calling me Hermes for now, okay?”

 

“Alright.” Hermes smiled widely and then led Derek around the last corner and out of the forest. The ground went from dirt to stone in a step, and suddenly the castle was looming above him like a nightmare. It twisted and curled impossibly through the air like it was being held up by imagination and sheer force of will alone. There was a set of stairs that Hermes started to climb, waving for Derek to follow. At the top of the stairs, the ground went flat for a huge courtyard. Derek could see another staircase on the other side of the courtyard, hundreds of people were climbing it and making their way through the gates.

 

Cerberus sat at the entrance to the castle gates, and Derek was surprised to see that he wasn’t very big at all. Somewhere between the size of a Doberman or a Rottweiler, with the same sleek black and brown coat. His heads look like they belonged to a Doberman, pointed at the front, with an almost mean look to it. Cerberus didn’t move much, each head looking in a different direction, watching the people who passed by him. Then, very suddenly, Cerberus’s middle head snapped to look right at Derek. The dog tilted his head up just a little and sniffed at the air. It was a look that Derek knew well, having seen it on his pack's faces before when they were hunting. The other two heads turned in the same directions, heads bobbing a little as they sniffed after Derek’s scent. Then he was standing, paws padding softly along the ground as he moved toward the two of them. “People will see you when you get into this,” Hermes said backing up a little. “But, they’ll leave you alone. No one wants to get involved with an angry Cerberus.”

 

“I’ll take your word for it,” Derek answered because honestly, the dog didn’t look like that much trouble. Cerberus stopped all the heads sniffing the air again, and then they were growling. It started low in their throats, growing louder until it changed and became furious barking.

 

“Have at him,” Hermes said and Derek was suddenly aware that Hermes was above him. Derek could hear the soft flapping of wings, but he didn’t look toward the god. He watched as Cerberus lowered itself to the ground, and then rushed at him. Bursts of fire exploded from the ground under his paws, the middle head howled loudly, and Derek realised that Cerberus was getting bigger as he got closer. His body started to pulse and ripple, doubling and tripling in size until it towered over Derek.

 

“Shit,” was all Derek managed, before the dog was in front of him. Derek knew the stories of Cerberus, had loved the idea of the huge dog when he was a kid, but standing in front of him was terrifying. He thought of Orpheus, who played music until Cerberus slept. Then he thought of Hercules, with the task of taking the animal with no weapons, and he decided that that was his only option. He bent his knees, shifted half way, and threw himself at the beast. His claws dug into Cerberus’ middle neck, and the creature howled and whipped its head back and forth until Derek lost his grip and was sent flying. He crashed down into the middle of the courtyard, and people scattered around him. He registered screaming for a second, but then Cerberus had him under one paw and was crushing. Derek could feel his bones snapping out of place tearing a painful scream from him. Everything around Derek was fading, making his mind fog and his vision swim way. Then, suddenly, there was an explosion. He felt everything. Cerberus’s paw moving away, his body being sent flying across the courtyard again, and the sudden sureness that he was about to die.

 

Then, just before Derek felt himself slip away, something tugged sharply in his chest. _“Oh,”_ he half thought and half said. _“Something else that wants to be.”_ He let himself a force on the thing inside of him, the thing that was suddenly there and screaming for freedom. He reached for it, letting his mind pull at the thing until it was him and he was it. His body healed, faster than it ever had before, and suddenly he was flipping around. He could feel the thing inside of him, tearing its way to the surface. His bone snapped again, in and out of place, his eyes burned and his lungs ached. He could tell he was getting bigger until he was closer to Cerberus’ height than his original height. He was covered in fur now, standing on two feet like a man, but with the head of a wolf. He let his claws out, bent his knees again, and growled at Cerberus. Part of the creature’s paw was gone, bleeding a liquid black pool onto the ground around him, but it he didn’t seem to notice. He growled back and charged at Derek. He could see Cerberus’ tail curled up, hissing and spitting at Derek. They collided a second later, all claws and teeth and howling.

 

Derek threw himself onto the creature’s back, dug his claws into its next, and yanked back. The snake tail was biting into Derek’s shoulder, but he couldn’t feel it. The teeth weren’t long enough to pierce the thick black coat of fur covering his body. Derek threw himself to the side, dragging Cerberus down with him. Both slammed into the stone ground, sending rocks scattering in different directions. Derek was vaguely aware of the people at the edges of the courtyard, screaming and running, or standing and watching. Some were cheering, others were crying. Derek twisted around, still holding one of Cerberus’ heads. As he went, he heard it snap, suddenly it was limp and useless in his hands. He let the head fall, rolled onto his side, and then stood in front of the creature. He roared as it approached him again, loud and long like he was shouting at one of the betas. Cerberus faltered, stumbled in front of him, and then dropped to the ground. The two heads whimpering softly, and the third lulled on its side.

 

Derek wait for a moment, watching his own reflection in the beast’s eyes. Seeing the sharp red glow of his eyes that didn’t fade away, reflecting back at him. Then he took a step toward Cerberus, holding his huge fur covered hand out in front of him. He reached for the middle head’s snout and pressed his hand against it. Cerberus did nothing for a long moment, then he nudged forward, and licked Derek’s palm. “Good boy,” Derek mumbled. He turned to look at the third head, stepping carefully toward it. He checked to see what he had done, and then took the head in both hands, and yanked on it. There was a popping noise, as he straightened the head, and a second later it was blinking its eyes open. “Come on, let’s go inside,” Derek said through a mouthful of fangs. Cerberus whined sadly, but let Derek by him. He felt his body shifting back, as he walked past the dog and toward the castle doors. Hermes was standing just beyond them, hands in their pockets, and head tilted to the side.

 

“You’re naked,” Hermes said once Derek was in front of them.

 

“I seem to end up that way a lot,” Derek answered. “I think my clothing exploded.”

 

“The star is what actually exploded,” Hermes said and pulled a hand from their pocket. “Luckily, items of the gods don’t explode easily.” Hermes opened their hand, offering Derek the watch again.

 

“Thank you,” Derek said taking it from them. “Any chance you can make me some clothing?”

 

“Sadly, I only know how to make pants,” Hermes said dramatically, grinning a little more than needed. “You’ll have to be shirtless,” they added, gesturing at Derek.

 

“Pants will be fine,” Derek answered, and after a second of thought from Hermes and a snap of their fingers, he was fully dressed again. “Thank you,” he said slipping the watched back into his pocket, and then whistled for Cerberus to follow him. The creature had shrunk just like Derek had, and was back to the size of a Doberman. He whined softly, as they made their way into the castle. There was fear in the whine like Cerberus knew that he was going to be in trouble when they found Hades. Derek wondered what Hades did when Cerberus failed at protecting the entrance. What laid in store for the creature when living souls made it into his kingdom, after a fight and a bit of time?

 

There were guards at the gates, but they didn’t stop them from passing by. Hermes seemed a little giddy as they walked like their spirit was lifting with each step. Derek knew Hermes was a trickster god and wondered if stirring the pot, was just generally brought joy to those types of gods. Derek thought Stiles would make a wonderful trickster, and wondered if the people who became the gods, could change what they were known for. They finally came to a large dark brown wooden door, with two more guards in front of it. First, they noticed Hermes, then Derek, and finally Cerberus. When they finally saw the creature, then both pushed the doors open and then stepped to the side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is a rude place to cut the chapter, but I think I'm getting really close to the end here, and I was worried I'd start writing this next part and just not stop.


	16. Chapter 16

Hermes strolled into the room first, hands in their pockets, and a smile on their face. They looked comfortable there like they belonged in this place, surrounded by the riches and extravagance. Even while dressed in worn old clothing and dirt combat boots, Hermes looked at home there. Derek knew he didn’t, he was nervous and tense, and sure this was the last thing he was ever going to see. Each step he took made something inside of him shift and sink, lower and lower until it hurt. The throne room was huge, made of black stone and silver accents. Plants were littering the place as well, curling up from the ground, along the walls and furniture. Derek saw Persephone first, sitting on a delicate black throne, with her hands folded in her lap. She smiled warmly at him when she noticed he was looking at her. Cerberus nuzzled up against Derek's hand, and it made Persephone raise her eyebrows in surprise. Derek chose to ignore whatever that meant. He turned his attention to the other throne, a huge twisting mess of silver and black metals. Hades, Derek thought, was exactly like he pictured him. He was a large man, with pale grey-black skin that seemed to have lost colour from lack of sunlight. He had short black curly hair that was streaked silver with age. He was an attractive man, Derek thought, with surprisingly soft eyes and a small curl to his lips. “Hermes,” Hades called, his voice booming but warm and welcoming.

“Hades,” Hermes answered. They moved like they were pulling off an imaginary hat and made a show of bowing deeply.

“And a friend?” Hades asked looking past them to Derek.

“Derek Hale, my liege. Hound of God, the hero from man, and soulmate of the Goddess Hecate,” Hermes said coming up out of their bow.

“Ah, the one with the tea,” Hades said. Hermes raised an eyebrow, clearly believing that Hades wasn't as impressed by Derek as he should be.

“It was very good tea, thank you, Derek,” Persephone said.

“You're welcome,” he answered trying not to sound as uncomfortable as he felt.

“What brings you here, Derek? In the company of a god, and with the determination to defeat my guard dog,” Hades said.

“I would like to request passage for Sti--for Hecate, through your kingdom and back home,” Derek said.

“A request for a soul,” Hades said. Derek wanted to argue that Stiles wasn't dead, but he bit it back. He figured arguing with the god wouldn’t help his cause.

“Yes,” Derek answered instead.

“What will you give me in exchange?” Hades asked. Persephone frowned at Hades, rolling her eyes and tutting.

“Hades,” she said.

“You know as well as I do, my love, that this is how it works,” Hades said. “You can't have something for nothing. What are you willing to part with?”

“Anything,” Derek answered.

“Anything at all?”

“Yes.”

“What if I requested your soul, in exchange for his?”

“That’s fine,” Derek answered. “I’ll trade places with him.”

“You would be here, not in Purgatory, you’d be without him for the rest of eternity,” Hades said. “Even when he moved on from that world, to live here. You could never be with him again. If you turn around, go home now, you could live your life until death, and then be with him.”

“I’ll stay,” Derek said firmly. “Stiles is going to be amazing, the world shouldn’t lose that.” Persephone clicked her tongue and made a soft cooing kind of noise, before turning to her husband.

“Hades!”

“In a moment, my love,” Hades said. “You’ll really give up anything?”

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t give for him,” Derek said.

“I seem to be under the impression, that you only had six months today,” Hades said. “And you think that you love him enough to give up your life?”

“Yes,” Derek answered.

“Just yes?”

“What else do you want me to say?”

“Convince me of your conviction, Derek Hale. Hound of God and hero from man,” Hades said.

“And soulmate of the god Hecate,” Derek said. Hermes smiled a little and then looked back at Hades like they were hoping for some kind of reaction.

“Soulmates mean little to me,” Hades said.

“You’re with yours,” Derek said, gesturing at Persephone. She didn’t look offended by what Hades had said, and it made Derek wonder how much of this was for show, rather than the truth.

“I’ve been here for a very long time, I’ve seen more people than anyone else, soulmate bonds are not eternal. Relationships break and fail all the time. Tell me, how you know, that your six months is enough,” Hades said

“I don’t know,” Derek said. “I don’t know if Stiles and I will work in this lifetime. I don’t know if we will always be together, or if something will happen, and we’ll hate each other until we die. I don’t know if I really love him yet, or if I just love the idea of him. But right now, I know that love I have for him is enough to give up my life. I know our pack loves him enough to die for him too. I’ve had three years to learn about him from the pack, and for one of those years, I had dreams of our future together. I don’t have any idea how we will turn out or who we will be in even a year’s time. But, I know he’s going to keep getting better, with or without me. He deserves that chance.” Hades tilted his head to the side, so slightly that if Derek hadn’t have been looking at him, he wouldn’t have noticed it when he looked at him again. It seemed like Hades was sizing Derek up like he had trouble believing the words. Derek suddenly wanted to shrink back from his stare, but that wouldn’t help his argument. So, he balled his fists and kept his eyes on Hades instead.

“Very well then,” Hades said thoughtfully. He seemed to think for a long few moments before he fixed Derek with a stare and said very slowly. “Instead of your life, I want your wolf.”

“Hades!” Persephone snapped, but he ignored her.

“Okay,” Derek agreed. Hades almost seemed surprised by this answer, but smiled at him. He stood up slowly from his throne, his robes pooling on the ground around his feet. He walked slowly toward Derek, looking more like he was gliding over the polished floors. He stopped arm's length away, with his hands folded in front of him.

“Just like that?” Hades asked.

“Just like that,” Derek repeated.

“I’ve never met born wolf, so willing to give away half of themselves,” Hades said. Derek shrugged his shoulders and frowned a little more.

“I told you I’d give anything for Stiles. I’d give my life to send him home. Giving up my wolf, and getting to go home with him, is more than I could have hoped for,” Derek said. He shrugged his shoulders, hoping it looked like a carefree gesture, instead of the desperate need to shift some of his tension.

“Kneel for me, Derek,” he said. Derek paused only long enough to process what Hades was saying, and then he lowed himself to his knees in front of him. “Cerberus,” Hades said sharply and pointed back to Persephone. She was also standing now, her hands planted angrily on her lips, and she was frowning.

“Hades,” she said again. “He is my best friend’s soulmate.”

“You are letting your feelings for someone who is dying, control you. You must remember the rules,” Hades said. Persephone made an irritated noise, and then Derek watched her lower down in front of Cerberus and check him. She took his injured paw in one hand, and then closed the other around it. Derek watched light seep between her fingers, and when she let go, Cerberus’ paw was healed. Derek looked up at Hades, who seemed more interested in the healing as well, and had also turned his attention away.

“What’s next?” Derek asked, making Hades turn back to face him. Hades smiled at him again, the same strangely kind, warm smile from before.

“It will hurt,” Hades said like a warning. Like the words might finally make Derek stand back up and leave the castle.

“It already has,” Derek said.

“Very well,” Hades answered. He pressed his palm to Derek’s forehead, and his skin was so cold, it made Derek flinch against it. “Let your wolf out, Derek. Let it be the one in control.” Derek screwed his eye shut, and focused on his wolf instead of the cold skin.

“Leto won’t like this,” Hermes said from somewhere in the room. Their voice was distant and small like they were moving away from Derek and Hades.

“I don’t like it,” Persephone said, but her voice faded away like it had been caught on a breeze. His body shifted slowly, and the cold became a burst of electricity that tore through him. His wolf chased the feeling, a weight settled in his stomach, and for a second he thought he was going to throw up again.

“He won’t survive this,” Hermes snapped and Hades hummed softly in response.

“I think he will,” he answered.

“You’re ripping out who he is! There is no reason not to let Stiles go, Hades! You’re just being an asshole!”

“You, like my wife, are letting your feelings for another get in the way of the rules,” Hades said.

“You can change rules, Hades. You’re the one who enforces them! Just… just fucking stop it,” Hermes pleaded.

“No,” Hades said, and the electric burn intensified. Derek’s chest ached with panic, and then he was screaming. It seemed like he was always screaming now. The feeling of panic grew, hotter and heavier until he thought he was going to stop breathing completely. “Come here,” he heard Hades say. His voice was soft and welcoming, and Derek knew he was calling the wolf away. There was a struggle, as the wolf whined and growled around him. He knew, that if he opened his eyes now, he’d see it. He’d see himself on all fours walking to its new master. Derek was suddenly overwhelmed, filled with sadness and terror, and with longing and a need to survive. Hades stepped away from him, taking his cold hand, but leaving the pain. Derek toppled forward, catching himself before he crashed into the ground. His ears were ringing, and there was a sharp smell of blood and live electricity in the air. His breathing was erratic, and the pain kept spreading. The farther his wolf pulled away, the more it hurt him. He forced his eyes open, forced himself to look forward, until he saw Hades again and there next to him, was a huge black wolf that seemed desperate and terrified.

Hades was speaking still, but the ringing in his ears drowned it out. Or maybe it was because Derek was human now, maybe Hades was speaking normally, but he was just too far away to hear it. He felt a wound on his side open again, like it hadn’t finished healing from his fight with Cerberus and now nothing was making it heal. He could feel the blood seeping through his clothing, and he choked on his breath. The world felt wrong now, buzzing and turning around him in the wrong direction. Things were too quiet and too soft. He couldn’t smell the other people in the room, and everything seemed darker now. He let his head fall forward again and watched as a cut on the back of his hand broke open again. Derek stared down at the blood that started to leak freely. It hurt, oh god it hurt so much more than he thought was possible. Derek closed his eyes again, he tried to make himself breath, tried to picture his pack, his family and friends. He tried to picture Stiles’ face and the teasing curve of his smile. He reminded himself that the world didn’t need another werewolf, but it needed Stiles. He reminded himself that he selfishly got to keep Stiles to himself, and that was more than enough.

“What are you doing?” The voice broke through the silence, and it made Derek jolt upright again. “What the fuck are you doing?” Stiles shouted. Derek turned toward the voice, Stiles was racing toward him.

“Stop,” Hades snapped. “He has made an exchange. His wolf for your soul.”

“I’m not a soul, Hades!” Stiles shouted. “Give it back. You can’t make deals like that!”

“Of course, I can,” Hades answered.

“Then take something from me,” Stiles snapped.

“You have nothing I want,” Hades answered.

“Then fight me!” Stiles shouted. Derek choked on a sudden burst of laughter because it was him. It had to be Stiles, for real this time. Stiles didn’t stop to fight Hades. Instead, he was next to Derek a second later. He dropped to his knees and grabbed at Derek’s shoulders. “Derek. Oh my god, Derek! You fucking idiot. Look at me!” Derek tilted his head up and stared into Stiles' eyes.

“Stiles,” he managed, and then Stiles was hugging him. He was pulling Derek up off the ground, and against him.

“I’ll heal you,” Stiles said frantically. “I’ll heal you, where is the worst of the bleeding?”

“I don’t know,” Derek answered. He felt Stiles hands on his arm, his leg, and then on his side. Stiles tightened his hand over the wound, his fingers digging painfully into Derek’s side.

“I’m gonna fuck this up,” Stiles said. “It’s not going to be as clean as normal. I gotta—fuck—I gotta stop the bleeding. I’ll heal you, then we’ll fix this okay. I’ll punch Hades in his stupid face until he gives your wolf back,” Stiles rambled.

“I just want you back,” Derek said and Stiles let out a hysterical sob of laughter.

“Don’t worry about me. I’m fine. I’m always fine. I would have gotten back, you didn’t need to be so stupid,” Stiles said. Derek could feel something like his own healing, curling through his skin and to the wound. He could feel his skin pulling back together, stitching closed again.

“I couldn’t keep living without you,” Derek said.

“Oh my god,” Stiles said.

“That’s my line,” Derek said hoarsely. Stiles laughed a little, and then his hand was moving from Derek’s side to his hand. He gripped it tightly and a second later the blood was stopping from there as well. Derek let his eyes drift down to their joint hands, he watched as the wound closed over and scarred.

“Are you still bleeding?” Stiles asked but Derek shook his head against him.

“I don’t think so,” Derek answered.

“I’ll fix things,” Stiles said.

“It’s fine,” he answered. “I’m fine.”

“Liar,” Stiles mumbled.

“How would you know?” Derek asked, as swallowed around the lump in his throat. His chest was still aching, but now it felt empty, and he knew it was because his wolf was gone. Stiles held Derek against him, burying his face in Derek’s neck, and after a second Derek knew he was crying. He could feel Stiles’ tears against his neck, so he wrapped his arms tighter around Stiles, yanking him closer to him.

“I can feel it,” Stiles hissed.

“Feel it?” he mumbled. Stiles worked his hand between their bodies and spread his fingers out over Derek’s chest as best as he could.

“A hollowness,” Stiles answered. “You’re echoing.”

“You’re making no sense,” Derek said, and Stiles grunted.

“Holy shit. Derek, why the hell would you give up your wolf like that?” Stiles asked after a minute of just holding onto Derek.

“I’m not… I didn’t give it up,” he answered. “I wanted you home. Stiles, I would have done anything to bring you home.”

“We barely know each other,” Stiles answered, but he was still holding Derek tightly. Stiles said it like it was something that had come up a lot. Derek looked past Stiles to Hades, who was watching them almost curiously. Derek wondered why the time they had known each other matter so much. Why… why it had bothered him so much over the past three years.

“Do you want to never know each other?” Derek asked after a minute had passed.

“No! Fuck, I’m not… no, Derek. I just… why would you do that for me?”

“Because I love you,” he whispered. “Because I want to know everything about you. I want to learn and fight and laugh with you. I’ve seen potential futures of us, together and happy. I want that with you, Stiles. Because I’ve never been as happy as I was those stupid six months we were together.”

“Maybe the only reason we were happy was because of the danger,” Stiles answered.

“Then we’ll find more danger,” Derek said and Stiles laughed. Stiles sat with Derek for a few minutes, both of them silently holding onto each other for the first time in years. Stiles finally moved, it took a minute but slowly Stiles detangled himself from Derek, and got back to his feet. Stiles took a step toward Hades; his face still tear-stained and splotchy from crying.

“Trade with me,” Stiles said firmly. “Also, it would have been nice to know this was an option for getting home.”

“It’s not one,” Hades said casually, his fingers running through the wolf’s fur. “You cannot bargain your way out, only a hero can do it.” Stiles glanced back at Derek, their eyes meeting for just a second before he was turning back to Hades.

“Then, let me bargain for the wolf,” Stiles said.

“You have nothing—”

“I must have something,” Stiles insisted. “I’ve traded promises, actions, and fucking concepts while I’ve been trying to get home. I have something you want, Hades.” Hades watched Stiles face, with an unreadable expression, and then he smiled at him.

“Your life,” he said.

“No,” Derek snapped.

“It’s the only thing,” Hades answered and waved dismissively as Derek as he got back to his feet.

“Don’t,” Derek said and then he realised that Hecate was standing near Stiles now. He hadn’t seen her a moment ago, and by the look on Hades’ face, neither had he. Stiles turned to Hecate, and she smiled softly at him.

“Are you sure?” Stiles asked.

“Positive,” she answered. Her eyes crinkled around the edges and her smile became a huge grin. “My power is not yours, not really, and I only have a very little bit left. You will continue to grow.” Stiles leant forward and kissed her softly on the cheek before he nodded his head and turned back to Hades. Stiles shifted slightly, squared his shoulders, and stood up taller.

“I’ll give you what is left of the past,” Stiles said. His voice came out strong and steady, sounding very little like himself at that moment. Hecate took a step forward, so she was standing next to Stiles. Her hand slipped into his, and she tightened her fingers around his. “I’ll give you lost knowledge, delayed power, and part of my life.” Stiles tugged at Hecate’s hand, and just like that, she was gone. She crumbled away from the world, leaving Stiles with a ball of light in his hand. Derek heard Persephone let out a sharp gasp and a choked off sob. Hades didn’t seem to notice it. Instead, he watched the light float up in front of Stiles. He took a small step forward, reaching out to the offered light, and letting it float between his fingers.  
Persephone moved forward, coming up behind her husband, and pressing her forehead to his back. Derek could see Hades’ body tense for just a second, before he relaxed again, and shook his head. “No,” he said once the light has settled on his palm and Persephone let out another soft sob. “All of it or the wolf is mine.” Hades pulled his hand away from the light, letting it float in front of him for a moment. Stiles watched it, his eyes tracking the ball as it sunk downwards, and then he reached out and grabbed it again.

“Leave it, Stiles,” Derek said. “I’ll be fine without it.”

“Trade with me,” Stiles said again. This time he sounded desperate like he was a step away from dropping to his knees and beg. Hades smiled, very softly, and then hummed a little to himself.

“I’m sorry, Stiles, there is nothing you can do,” Hades said, “not about this.” Derek took a step forward, his hand coming down on Stiles' shoulder. He still felt unsteady on his feet, and grabbing Stiles was as much for his own balance as it was for getting Stiles’ attention.

“Stiles, let’s go home, please,” Derek begged. Stiles turned to him, stared at him for a moment, and then nodded.

“Okay, yeah. Yes, yeah. Come on, let’s go home,” Stiles said. Derek watched the light sink into Stiles' hand and disappear. Then, Stiles had his arm around Derek, to help hold him up.

“I’ll be fine,” Derek repeated and Stiles forced a smile for him.

“I know you will,” Stiles answered. “Will you help us home, Hermes?” Stiles asked, glancing back over his shoulder at the other god.

“Yes,” Hermes said. They seemed to flit across the room, feet barely touching the ground as they approached.

“Remember the rule,” Hades said and Stiles glared at him.

“Or what? You’ll fucking keep me here and keep Derek’s wolf?”

“This rule is part of this place,” Hades said, gesturing around them.

“Fine,” Stiles snapped.

“Good luck,” Hades said. Stiles pulled Derek with him, turning around so they could leave. There was a moment, where everything felt very heavy, and Derek thought he was going to fall forward. Derek needed Stiles to walk, his feet feeling uncoordinated and numb. He turned back only once, to look at his wolf when it let out of a long low whine. Then, he turned back and faced the exit, feeling somewhere between unwilling and unable to look back. He tightened his grip on Stiles, took a long deep breath, and continued forward. It was Stiles who stopped a few steps later, he looked at Hermes and nodded toward Derek. Hermes was there a second later, taking Derek’s weight as Stiles slipped out from Derek’s arm. Stiles turned around and walked back to Hades. Derek didn’t turn to look at him, just listened to Stiles footsteps on the ground, wishing he could hear his heart beating. “A goodbye?” Hades asked.

“I swear, Hades,” Stiles said firmly. “I swear on Styx, that Derek will get his wolf back.”

“A noble promise,” Hades said.

“I swear on Styx that Derek will get his wolf back, within the year,” Stiles said. There was a heavy silence then and then Hades was laughing.

“I look forward to it,” Hades said almost fondly.

“I don’t doubt that,” Stiles answered, and then he was turning back around and coming back to Derek. Stiles grabbed him from Hermes, pulled him close to his side, and went back to half dragging Derek away from the castle. As his hands settled against Derek, he felt warmth, a comforting point of contact, here Stiles' hand pressed into his side. Hades was still laughing behind them, like whatever Stiles had said was the funniest thing he had ever heard.

“I don’t know if you can really do that,” Hermes said, once they were outside and out of the courtyard.

“I’ve made the vow, I’ll do it,” Stiles said.

“I’m just not sure why you set a time limit on it,” Hermes said.

“Because I’m impulsive and a little bit stupid,” Stiles confessed after a few minutes of silence. Hermes snorted out a laugh and bobbed their head like they were nodding.

It turned out, that leaving the Underworld, was much easier than getting into it. The creatures of the world seemed curious, sometimes coming toward them, but Stiles would glare at them until they sunk away again. As the moved, with Derek feeling weaker and the world around them seeming duller, Derek worried that Stiles was wrong. That maybe he was another illusion, maybe it was another creature, and Derek had given up everything… for nothing at all. His fears came from Stiles’ silence. As soon as they reached the edge of the forest, he stopped talking. They trudged through the forest and the field without a single word said. When Derek looked at Stiles, he was staring straight ahead, eyes sharp and focused on their path. It was the same through the village and the other two fields. Right up until they reached a huge dark cave entrance. Then, Stiles glanced at Hermes and nodded his head again. Hermes hefted Derek closer to him, pulling him up a little more, and Stiles slipped back from him.

“Where are you—?” Derek managed, but his throat suddenly ached terribly.

“Don’t worry, he’s going to be right behind us,” Hermes said. “Now, no matter what you do, do not look back at him.”

“Like in the myths?” Derek asked.

“Like in history,” Hermes corrected. “He won’t say anything either, too easy for you to know he’s there if he just makes noise behind you. So, Stiles will be silent, and we’ll keep going forward.”

“Okay,” Derek said, trying to pull himself up a little away from Hermes. He stumbled a little when he tried, and Hermes just smiled a little at him.

“It’s fine, I’ll help,” Hermes said.

“I thought you didn’t get something for nothing,” Derek said.

“Hades has old ideas,” Hermes told him. “There’s no reason not to help.”

“I can think of some,” Derek answered, but Hermes just scoffed and pulled him forward. Derek wanted desperately to stand on his own feet, but no matter how hard he tried, his body refused. He was sure, that in time, he would regain his balance. The hollow feeling inside would ease, it might not disappear, but it would ease. Hermes had the lantern again, pulled from the nothingness in front of them.

“Come on, it’ll be okay,” Hermes said as they stepped into the cave and were swallowed by the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like the story should be winding down now, but my brain is like "Nah, there's more to tell. Just... just keep going."


	17. Chapter 17

The darkness that settled around them seemed thicker and darker than any Derek had ever encountered outside of a dream. He knew it was because he was human now, and this was what darkness looked like without supernatural aids. But, he couldn't stop himself from hating it, or the growing cold emptiness inside his chest, and the lightness in his limbs. He suddenly thought of what Stiles said, about the hollowness inside of him and how he echoed. Derek understood it now. He could feel the empty space inside of him, where his heartbeat bounced around like a voice off of cavern walls. It had started like a ball in the pit of his stomach, spreading back and up his spin like panic did. Each time he tried to take a step, he felt it more. He was still struggling to get his feet to stay underneath him. Each step his legs would twist and bend away from the direction he wanted them to go. He pulled his focus from himself and strained to Stiles behind him. He tried to listen for the third set of steps dragging through the gravel under their feet, but he couldn't find it.

 

The temptation to glance behind him was worse than he thought it should be. Something that he thought should have been a simple task of walking, was making him feel panicked. Fear was spreading through his chest, with each step and drag along the ground; he wanted to glance back over his shoulder. It made him feel twitchy, and a few times he caught himself tilting his head gently to the side. One of the times, Hermes dropped the lantern, grabbed his face and forced him to keep looking forward. "Don't let it get to you," they hissed. Hermes scooped the lantern back up, and dragged Derek forward faster. He didn't know how long they had been walking before he felt something on the back of his hand. The feeling made his heart stop for just a second, and then pound frantically against his ribs. He glanced toward his hand, a saw a curling black line appearing over the skin that was illuminated by Hermes lantern. Then, the words _'I'm right here'_ appeared, _'just five steps behind you'._ Derek let out a shaking breath and nodded his head. He wasn't sure if Stiles could see the movement, or if he could even tell that's what it was, but it made him feel better.

 

"I think that's cheating," Hermes said. There was a soft huff of laughter from behind them, and that made Derek feel even better. Derek glanced at his hand again, watching the words disappear, and new ones appear.

 

_'Gonna tell on me? Kick me back into the underworld?'_

 

"And wreck my role in this story? Saving soulmates in distress? Helping the hero rescue is fair damsel?"

 

"I think I'm the damsel," Derek said.

 

"That's true," Hermes answered. Stiles kept drawing on Derek's hand and arm as they walked, making lines and patterns that spiralled and twisted across his skin. It kept the desperate need to turn around mostly at bay, part of Derek thought it was this cave, that it made him want to spin around. He thought this place purposely made it hard to leave with the soul you've gathered. He wanted to ask Hermes, but before he could a bead of light appeared in front of them. "Almost home free," Hermes said. Derek wanted to pull away from Hermes and hurry forward, but like every time he tried he'd stumble. "Relax a few more minutes won't kill you," Hermes said, making Derek grunt. It might have been the longest few minutes of his life, but then they were stumbling out of the cave and into a forest.

 

Derek shielded his eyes against the light, suddenly remembering the ocean and the water in his lungs. "Why didn't we go in this way?" Derek asked as his eyes adjusted to the world.

 

"The portal moves," Hermes answered. "There was a good chance we would have come out underwater. 70% of the world and all that." They took a few more steps forward, and then Derek could hear beeping and dinging noises from a cell phone. He waited for a second, scared to turn around too soon, and then there was a thump behind them as Stiles hit the ground. Hermes turned them both, but Derek managed to pull away and stumble over to Stiles. He collapsed ungracefully to the ground next to him.

 

"Stiles!" Derek snapped, grabbing at him. Hermes was beside him, pulling him back, and trying to calm Derek down.

 

"He's fine," Hermes said.

 

"He just--"

 

"He's fine; time is catching up with him. You need to come up for air every once in a while or avoid it all together. Just let him reconnect with the last three years," Hermes explained. Derek still pulled Stiles off the ground and into his lap. Stiles' eyes snapped open and closed and his body convulsed. Derek didn't really know what to do but decided that he'd roll him onto his side, and make sure he didn't choke on his tongue. Stiles convulsed against him for almost ten minutes, before he shot upright, looking panicked and confused. Stiles blinked rapidly a few more times before he turned to Derek and threw himself at him. "See, he's fine," Hermes said and patted Derek on the shoulder.

 

Stiles yanked back and started speaking quickly, too panicked for Derek to really understand anything. He understood small fragments of sentences that made little sense to him. "And some of them live in duplexes." or "Everything is a freaking gemstone." and something that sounded like Stiles confessing to kissing someone else, but Derek figured they could worry about all that later.

 

"Stiles," Derek said, as Stiles tried to launch into a tangent about invisible neighbourhoods. It seemed to startle Stiles, and he blinked a few more times before he smiled a little at Derek.

 

"Hi," he said and Derek laughed.

 

"Hi," Derek repeated, tightening his arms around Stiles. "God, I've missed you," Derek mumbled and then buried his face against Stiles' neck. Stiles squeezed him tighter, tensing his muscles like he was trying to force the ache from them. They didn't move for a long time, just swayed back and forth slowly, until Stiles finally said.

 

"We can get home from here, Hermes."

 

"You're sure?" Hermes asked.

 

"Portal to the preserve, and a little walk home," Stiles said.

 

"You can manage an over world portal?" Hermes asked incredulously.

 

"Easily," Stiles answered. Hermes was quiet for a few minutes before they finally hummed a little.

 

"Alright then, you crazy kids," Hermes said. "See you two around. I'd better be invited to the wedding. I look amazing in formal wear." There was a soft popping sound, a ripple through the air, and then they were alone. One of Stiles' hands snaked under the side of Derek's shirt, he spread his fingers wide, and then Derek could feel the healing again.

 

"I didn't do a very good job," Stiles said softly. "I'll try and fix the scars when we get home, but for now, I'll get you walking on your own again." Derek focused on the gentle twisting warmth that spread through him. With his eyes closed, it was like he could feel spiders spinning webs inside of him, connected the strings to his sides and filling up the emptiness in his chest. The tremor in his legs stilled and after a few minutes, he was sure he could stand on his own.

 

"You don't need to worry about the scars," Derek said against his neck. "I don't mind them."

 

"Are you sure?" Stiles asked. His hand turned until his fingers were trailing along the scar on Derek's side.

 

"I'm sure," Derek said and then, "can you really open a portal now?"

 

"Around the world, I can. And, probably small ones to purgatory, not enough for a person to get through," Stiles answered.

 

"Big enough for a polecat?" Derek asked.

 

"She's a sweetheart," Stiles said.

 

"She's been helpful," Derek said softly. "Once she stopped yelling at me."

 

"She actually stopped yelling at you?" Stiles asked. Derek huffed out a laugh and nodded.

 

"Let's go home. Everyone will be excited to see you," Derek mumbled. Stiles agreed but they didn't move for a few more minutes, just sat together until their legs started to hurt. Then they finally untangled themselves and got back to their feet. Derek watched as Stiles stretched his arms, wiggled his fingers and danced back and forth on the stop. He realised as Stiles shifted his feet, that he was barefoot. His toes digging into the grass below him, like he was digging a hole with them. "Where are your shoes?" Derek asked. Stiles stopped moving, opened his mouth a little and then looked down.

 

"Goddammit I forgot my shoes," he said.

 

"Took them off before going into the castle?" Derek asked and Stiles laughed.

 

"No, Hecate didn't like shoes in her house," Stiles answered. "I left them there... I haven't even thought about them in ages."

 

"We can get you more shoes," Derek said and Stiles grinned at him. Stiles took Derek's hand in his, swung his arm around in front of him, and after a few seconds, a huge mirrored portal appeared in front of them.

 

"Hold on tight," Stiles said.

 

"I might throw up on you," Derek said and Stiles laughed.

 

"That's fine," he said and pulled Derek forward and through the portal. The world pulled away from them, and Derek felt his body tugging in different directions. It hurt more this time, and his voice seemed to rip from his throat and fly around him. Then, just as quickly as it started, it was over. Derek hit the ground with a crack and Stiles was standing next to him. Derek managed to get back to his feet, and once Stiles had checked him over and healed his broken arm, they were walking again. Derek knew where they were now, on the edge of the preserve and not too far from the graveyard. Stiles clutched Derek's hand in his, holding on so tightly that it hurt.

 

"Are you afraid?" Derek asked, still worried about Stiles silence. 

 

"A little," Stiles answered. "I mean... not really, just kind of? I love the pack; seriously I've missed everyone. But, everything's changed, right? And, I haven't. For all, I know I have a younger sibling now! O-or multiple younger siblings! There's gonna be new pack members and relationships. New dynamics and inside jokes! I'm completely out of the loop Derek."

 

"You have the same number of siblings as when you left. Just Scott. There are a lot of new pack members; we picked up a lot of people from Apollo's carnival and a few people found soulmates... there are also new pups around. But, I don't think anyone's going to care how long you've been gone, Stiles. Everyone who knows you misses you. Have you looked at your phone yet?"

 

"My phone?" Stiles asked and dug into his pocket. "Didn't even realise I still had it on me."

 

"It was going off when we left the cave, but you collapsed," Derek said.

 

"Yeah, I was getting three years of time. Aging, mostly. Also needed to get used to the air again. Nicer up here, isn't it?" Stiles rambled and then laughed. "The pack kept texting me?"

 

"Erica told me she wanted to keep you up to date," Derek said.

 

"She's definitely texted me the most," Stiles agreed.

 

"She couldn't not talk to her Batman," Derek said. Stiles grinned widely at him, and then went back to scrolling through his phone.

 

"None from you," Stiles said after a few minutes.

 

"I... I didn't know what to say," Derek answered.

 

"Don't feel bad, big guy. You may not have texted me, but I definitely got your prayers. No one else did that." Derek felt his face flush, and he snapped his eyes to the ground in front of him. "You know, I was thinking about that... ability," Stiles said slowly.

 

"I'm not going to pray dirty thoughts to you," Derek said, making Stiles squawk and flail.

 

"Oh come on! How did you even know that's what I was going to asked?"

 

"Just a feeling," Derek answered.

 

"Your prayers did get a little risqué when I was gone," Stiles said. "We could call them... seyers? Sexyers? Prex? Man those words do not combine nicely."

 

"I'm never praying to you again," Derek said and Stiles laughed. "I mean it; I'm shifting my attention to Leto or Hermes."

 

"You wound me, Derek! You promised to be my acolyte! I've always wanted an acolyte," Stiles said dramatically. Derek couldn't stop the smile he felt on his face and knocked Stiles with his shoulder. It sent the other stumbling to the side, but only because of the surprise of the movement. Then he righted himself and was grinning at Derek again. Derek smiled back at him, feeling warm and a little scared that he was dreaming. Stiles stopped suddenly, making Derek pause and look back at him.

 

"Everything okay?" Derek asked.

 

"I love you," Stiles said and looked like it had almost startled him.

 

"I love you too," Derek answered. Stiles moved forward, crowding into Derek's space, grabbed him, and pulled him into a bruising kiss. Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles, holding him as tightly as he could, and kissed him back. There was a strangeness to the moment, where it felt like Stiles hadn't really been gone at all but also like Derek had never seen him before. Like this was the first time they'd ever kissed or the millionth time it had happened. In that moment, he felt like they were existing at extremes. They were fire and water, light and dark, and life and death. They were together and apart, and they would never be anything else. Then Stiles was pulling back from him, breathing heavily, and smiling so widely that it made Derek's face hurt. Derek tugged Stiles onward to the compound, holding his hand, and moving carefully through the trees. "I'm surprised no one is rushing out here," Derek said when they reached the farthest edge of the compound. Stiles let out an awkward sounding laugh, and then tightened and loosened his hand in Derek's.

 

"I may... have... masked our scents and heartbeats... and well...all of us," Stiles said, making Derek look at him. "I was worried! I am worried... I just... I'm... ugh, god Derek I'm scared. So much has happened and you even said there are new pack members, and what if I'm not... good enough anymore? What if everyone has grown up and I've fallen behind because I got stuck in another dimension for three years? What if I don't fit into the pack anymore and I'm just weirdly there because obligations and social niceti --"

 

"Want to see our house?" Derek asked suddenly, making Stiles stumble over his words.

 

"Our what?"

 

"Our house," Derek said again. "I... I designed it while you were gone. It's just the bones of the place, but..."

 

"Yes!" Stiles almost shouted, and then shook his head. "Yes, I want to see it." It was already the closest house to them, so it was easy enough to slip into the backyard unnoticed.

 

"My greenhouse," Stiles said.

 

"I thought it would be easier than trudging across the whole compound to reach it," Derek said. "I... I always tried to take care of your plants."

 

"I didn't know you had a green thumb," Stiles said, as he tugged the door open and stepped inside.

 

"I really don't," Derek answered. He instantly wished he had made it into the greenhouse first and was able to grab the stupid binder off the table near the door, but Stiles picked it up first. He flipped it open and smiled widely.

 

"This is cute. Lydia made this for you?" he asked and then snorted out a laugh. He cleared his throat a little and then read from the first page of the binder. " _Since you insist on taking care of these plants yourself, Derek Hale, despite there being infinitely more qualified people; here are instructions so you don't kill the plants or yourself._ You insisted, huh?"

 

"I thought it was the least I could do," Derek answered.

 

"Looks like everything made it," Stiles said, closing the binder and setting it back down. Stiles reached out for the closest plant, his fingers closing around a leaf that was hanging away from the plant. He curled his toes into the dirt of the greenhouse, the same way he didn't before opening the portal, and then Derek watched as the plant withered and died.

 

"What...?" Derek started, but a second later the plant bloomed and exploded back to life. It grew back in an instant, spreading open huge green-purple leaves, with large orange flowers blooming from its vines. Stiles' shoulders seemed to relax, as he pulled his hand away from the plant. "I didn't even realise it bloomed," Derek said.

 

"Needs magic too," Stiles said and shrugged his shoulders. Then he leant forward and plucked flower after flower off the vines, and bundled them together into a bouquet. "Melissa loves them," he added.

 

"Any other plants you want to magic before we go inside?" Derek asked, but Stiles just shook his head and laughed.

 

"Just the ones for Mel," he said. They went into the house next, going through the sunroom, and into the kitchen. Stiles checked each room, excited and questioning, and often thrilled with what Derek told him about it. "How much of this did you do alone?" Stiles asked when they reached the room he thought was meant to be the master bedroom.

 

"All of the designing and... maybe a quarter of the construction work," Derek answered. "I'll... probably need more help now, without my strength..." Derek pressed his hand to his chest without really thinking, where an ache had started again when he thought that he was human now.

 

"I'll help," Stiles said. "I'm not really much stronger... but I can help."

 

"I want you to help me fill it," Derek said. "Colours and furniture... all of that stuff."

 

"I want to too," Stiles said softly. He took a step toward a huge window on the wall of the bedroom, it looked out over at the preserve, away from the other houses.

 

"I needed to keep busy," Derek said, and he felt his voice crack. Stiles turned back to him, and then reached out and grabbed Derek's hand.

 

"Let's go see the pack," Stiles said and Derek nodded. They left the house in silence and started toward the rest of the houses. Derek didn't know who would be home right now; he honestly didn't even know what day it was or how long he had been gone. The sky was cloudy, but Derek could guess that it was probably mid-afternoon. There was no one outside as they approached the main house, but before Derek could ask Stiles if they were still masked from the pack, he heard John's voice.

 

"Derek?" he called, sounding surprised and then very quickly he shouted. "Stiles!" Derek turned toward John's house and watched as the coffee mug he was holding shattered on the ground. The sheriff was sprinting toward them, and suddenly other doors were opening.

 

"Dad!" Stiles shouted back, and a second later they were hugging each other. Derek heard his own name again, and then Laura was there, yanking him into a hug. His mother grabbed him next, and then Cora. More people were outside, there was shouting and crying, and Derek threw himself into the crowd of people. He hugged anyone that would let him, and when he reached his father, he couldn't stop himself from breaking down and crying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who had their computer AND backup external hard drive die within hours of one another?! The answer is meeeeee. I've lost hundreds of hours of writing, photography, artwork and all my designs for my Etsy shop! Hahahhahah hahahah aha ha ahahahaaaaaaaaa. 
> 
> By chance, I had this in a google drive, but I have lost all of the fic I was writing about what Stiles has been going through during this fic and a few other little side things I'd written. Fluff and smut stuff that I was gonna post later. So, that sucks a lot. I also lost a different fic that I was working on and it was like 25k. I'm heartbroken guys; I'm going to have to save up to see if data recovery is even possible. One day in my life, I'll have $600 - $3000 lying around just because, but by then I'll probably be 90. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	18. Chapter 18

The pack arrived at the main house in groups, people calling out of work and leaving school early. Isaac crinkled his nose when he first saw Stiles, like he was trying to look disgusted that he was there, but only managed to look like he was holding back tears. Stiles hugged Isaac first, to let the other pretend he wasn't incredibly relieved that Stiles was home. Boyd crushed him with a hug, and called him Batman; it made Stiles actually start to cry. Cora kept hitting him like she thought he wasn't real, or that he might just disappear suddenly. They had to wait for the others, the ones who were taking longer to get out of work, or had to finish their shifts before they arrived. Boyd told them Erica was at a doctor's appointment, but he'd left her a message. Even some of the pups were pulled from their classes. Laura had left suddenly, once Derek and Stiles had been pulled into the main house, and she was back half an hour later with Sana and Travis in tow. Sana had spent a lot of time with Derek over the last few years; most of the pups had gravitated toward him after he pulled them from the tree house years before. Talia said they could feel their Alpha, pups always knew, because they didn't have adult thoughts to cloud their minds. Sana had followed him around the most and insisted that Derek needed someone to talk to. She had missed Stiles fiercely, and she was always willing to remind the pack, that it wasn't as fun without him around. Most of the other pups agreed with her, silently, so did Derek.

 

Sana came into the room like nothing was different, babbling to her mother about how excited she was that they left school early. She turned when she realised how many people were in the room, opening her mouth to express her confusion and then she saw Stiles. She froze for a second, staring at him with wide eyes and an open mouth. "Hey smarty pants," Stiles said and grinned. Sana did a strange set of movements, where she looked at Stiles then her mother, then her grandmother, then Derek, and then back to Stiles again. She was fidgeting like she couldn't decide which direction to go in; but finally, she launched herself forward and threw her arms around Stiles.

 

She started crying as soon as she started to move, babbling nonsense against his stomach, and moving her head back and forth like she was rubbing her scent over him. Stiles draped his arms over her back, holding her carefully against him. It took a long time for her to calm down, but finally, she pulled back, looked up at him and said. "You owe me three birthday presents."

 

"What? No way, I left Derek here! That's gotta be worth, like five present!" Stiles said grinning at her.

 

"That's the worst present," she said flatly.

 

"Hey," Derek said softly. Derek watched as Sana's face burn red as she turned to face him.

 

"I didn't know you were there," she lied and Derek smiled a little.

 

"Would you have said something else if you'd known?" he asked. Sana seemed to think about it for a moment, and then shrugged her shoulders.

 

"Maybe," she answered.

 

"So you mean I could have taken him with me?" Stiles asked, pulling her attention back.

 

"No!" Sana snapped and looked embarrassed all over again.

 

"I'll make up the missed birthdays at the next one, okay?" Stiles said.

 

"Good," Sana said firmly, and then hugged him again.

 

"Your hair is long again," Stiles said as he ran his fingers through it.

 

"Duh, it's been three years," she said, her voice muffled by his shirt. Sana only moved away from Stiles when Melissa arrived. Laura took her hand and tugged her away carefully, mumbling about Stiles needing to see his mum too. Sana had agreed with that statement, but only let herself be dragged a couple feet away. Melissa's hair was messy and it looked like she had probably slept in her scrubs, but Stiles didn't seem to mind. He hugged her first, and then he got the bouquet of orange flowers he had picked for her and held it out.

 

"God, you look so much better than the dead eyed version of you that was in that carnival," Stiles said.

 

"Flatterer," she said and kissed him on the cheek. "It's so good to have you home."

 

"It's really good to be home," Stiles answered. His voice was soft, almost quiet enough that Derek didn't hear him. Erica was the next to arrive, already crying when she got there with black makeup streaking her face from the tears. She handed Aelle to Boyd and then hugged Stiles so tightened, that he had to flail and beg for air before she'd let him go.

 

"You're a god, you're fine," Erica said but she loosened her grip a little.

 

"I've missed you so much," Stiles said and Erica started to cry again.

 

"I can't believe you left for so long! You're such an idiot! Not letting us help you properly!" she said through her sobs. Stiles let her cry against his shoulder until she had calmed down. Derek was sure, that by the end of the night, Stiles would be covered in more snot and tears than any childless adult ever should be. Stiles managed to hold Aelle for a full two minutes before she burst into tears, and reached frantically for Derek. Stiles, surprised, handed the baby off to him.

 

"Sorry sweetie," Stiles said worried but Erica waved him off.

 

"She doesn't like anyone if Derek is in the room," Boyd said.

 

"I know the feeling," Stiles answered, and grinned widely at Derek. All he could do was roll his eyes, and turn away to hide his blushing. Scott arrived a few minutes later, racing into the house like he thought Stiles might disappear before he made it. Scott picked Stiles up and carried him around the room, the two of them laughing as they went.

 

"You're really home!" Scott shouted.

 

"I'm really home," Stiles answered. "And apparently a bag of flour now."

 

"I'm sorry," Scott said, putting Stiles back down and then hugging him. "I just can't believe you're really here."

 

"What? Did you think I was going to stay away forever?" he asked.

 

"I dunno, you could have decided you liked it better there," Scott answered.

 

"And miss all the dumb stuff you're gonna do with your life?" Stiles asked. "Oh man, I missed your wedding!"

 

"We put it off," Allison said, as she came into the room shrugging off her jacket.

 

"Why would you do that?" Stiles asked. Allison fixed him with a look like he was an idiot, but then pulled him into a hug.

 

"Like we could get married without you around," she said and then huffed.

 

"Isaac would make a good best man," Stiles said.

 

"I would have puked," Isaac answered from where he was sitting.

 

"I'll probably puke too," Stiles said and shrugged.

 

"It's different," Scott insisted. Derek could see the tension that Stiles had been carrying slipping away, with each person he spoke to. His shoulders relaxed and his smile became softer and more real. The fear of being left behind mattered less and less, and soon Derek was sure that Stiles would forget that it was ever a worry at all. Lydia and Jackson arrived next, and when they did Derek decided that there were too many people crammed into the living room. He smiled at Stiles and then told Erica he was going to take Aelle out into the backyard, under the guise of calming her down. She had stopped crying almost as soon as she was handed to Derek, but he needed air. No one stopped him as he made his way to the back of the house, and out the back door. It was strange, being on the back deck, and not being able to hear anyone through the open door. Not being able to hear if someone was arriving or leaving, or even just the conversation inside. Just by going outside he had totally cut himself off from the rest of the pack. It was unsettling.

 

Derek settled himself on the porch, sat Aelle on his lap facing the preserve and the clouds that were rolling through the sky. She seemed happy there, tucked into his arms, feeling too small and precious for him to be holding at all. He wondered if she would be a wolf, there was a chance, but it was small. Bitten wolves mostly gave birth to humans, but Derek wouldn't have been surprised if Erica's genes beat those odds. Aelle settled against him until he thought she must have fallen asleep. He could feel the emptiness spreading through him again, as the wind picked up and pushed against him. It felt like the wind was catching the webs inside his chest and blowing them away. The emptiness would fade, he reminded himself, as he caught a bright burst of Stiles' laughter from behind him. The ache would ease and the hollowness would become familiar. The strange dreamlike quality the world had would fade in time as well, and this would feel normal.

 

"Are you alright?" Matthew asked from behind him, making Derek jump and turn to look at him.

 

"Uhm, I'm fine," Derek said.

 

"What has you so distracted that you can't hear me coming?" He asked.

 

"I'm tired," Derek answered, because that was true, even if it wasn't the truth Matthew was asking for. His father seemed to study him for a moment before he sat himself down next to Derek. They were silent together, and Derek knew very soon Matthew would realise what was wrong with him.

 

"I thought you'd be inside celebrating," Matthew said.

 

"I... I guess I'm scared," Derek answered.

 

"Of Stiles?"

 

"Of the relationship with him. Of being alone with him again. Of needing to interact with him as a person and not a dream," Derek said.

 

"It'll come back to you," Matthew said softly. "It will be strange for a time, but it will come back."

 

"How long was it strange with mum?" Derek asked.

 

"Ah, not long at all. But, I've had Talia for most of my life; we knew each other for a very long time."

 

"It keeps coming back to that," Derek said.

 

"Knowing each other?"

 

"Time," Derek said. "Time we've been together, the time we've been apart, the time I was away, the time I'm spending away from him now. It keeps coming back to her."

 

"Her?"

 

"Time," Derek said again.

 

"Time is a woman?"

 

"I think so," Derek said.

 

"Okay," Matthew said and nodded his head a little. The wind picked up again, whipping a little harder against them, and it made Matthew still. He glanced at Derek, took a deep breath, and then frowned at him. "Derek... your scent..."

 

"I know," Derek answered and waved his hand. His father grabbed his hand as it passed, looking down at the scar that curled around the side and back of it.

 

"What happened?" he asked.

 

"I gave up my wolf," Derek said, his voice cracking on the last word. Matthew's hand tightened around Derek's, and then he very carefully let it go. Derek knew that he had said it loud enough that people inside could hear him. That if anyone had been bothering to listen, they would know now.

 

"You what?" Matthew asked.

 

"I gave my wolf to Hades, in exchange for Stiles and safe passage out of the Underworld," Derek explained. He heard something clatter to the floor in the house, and then footsteps loud enough for even his human hearing to pick up.

 

"Derek?" Laura said, and of course, it was Laura. It was always her that was there. Even in his dreams, she was always the one to pull him to safety. "Are you serious?"

 

"No Laur, I thought it would be funny to joke about this kind of thing," Derek said, holding Aelle's sleeping form a little tighter.

 

"But that means you can't be alpha!" she said. "That means--"

 

"You have to do it again," Derek said. His father's hand was on his shoulder a moment later, squeezing carefully.

 

"That's fine," he said. "You made the choice you thought was right."

 

"But you think it was the wrong one?" Derek asked sharply.

 

"That's not what I meant," Matthew answered. "You made the right choice, Derek." Derek strained for the sound of a heartbeat, desperate to hear an indication of truth or a lie, but he couldn't. There was an anger that had started to burn, just below his skin, because he didn't know how else to respond.

 

"I did," Derek said, his voice taking on a hard edge that made Laura and Matthew share a concerned look.

 

"Sam will probably be the most help. Since he grew up with us... like this," she said suddenly and gestured from herself to Derek and then back again. "He must know ways to keep track of us wolves, as a human..." Derek turned his attention back to the forest in front of him, Aelle shifted a little in her sleep, slumping further down in Derek's lap. There was a snap, a rustle, and then suddenly Hermes was in front of them. Hermes seemed a little startled to be there and glanced at Matthew and Laura with concern. Hermes was floating a foot off the ground, the wings on their boots flapping frantically.  

 

"Hey. Um, no. Greetings? Uhm... Sorry. Hello, Derek Hale, I have a message for you... from the goddess Leto," they said, landing on the ground in front of Derek. Hermes tried to straighten their clothing for a minute, before giving up and holding a beige scroll out toward Derek.

 

"Is it my letter telling me I'm no longer a hound of god?" Derek asked. Hermes raised an eyebrow at him, shrugged a shoulder, swore under their breath and straightened themselves again.

 

"I am unaware of what the letter contains," Hermes said.

 

"A little formal?" Derek asked as he reached for the scroll.

 

"Official business," Hermes said. "I'm just doing my job," they added sounding a little sad about it. As soon as the scroll was in Derek's hand, Hermes was gone. Another pop and fluttering noise, and then no one was in front of them. Laura made a soft humming noise behind Derek, and then he could hear her retreating into the house. Matthew seemed more worried and sat still for a few minutes.

 

"Do you want company for this?" he asked.

"No," Derek said, and then carefully picked up Aelle and handed her to his father. "I think it's better if I'm alone." Matthew took Aelle as he got up, moving slowly to let Derek ask him to stay, but he didn't. He let his father retreat into the house and closed the door behind him. Derek stared at the scroll for a few long minutes, tightening and loosening his grip on it. He was sure it would be some kind of formal dismissal from a position he hadn't even know; he had a few months ago. He expected something like ' _with the greatest regret, I will have to revoke the title of Hound of God from you.'_ written inside, and part of him didn't want to see it. The other part of him, a quieter more damaged part whispered that he deserved to lose this. He deserved to lose everything. He shook the thoughts from his head and broke the seal on the edge of the scroll. He unrolled it slowly, finding mostly blank paper and a single line of writing inside. Leto's writing was small and neat, and the ink was smudged along the paper from being written with her left hand.

_'You are a hero, above everything else; no one can take that from you.'_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uploading a day early, because... today is the one year anniversey of this universe! Seriously, I've been writing this nonsense for a year. Look at me go.


	19. Chapter 19

There were no dreams at night anymore; instead, his days had taken on a strange and dreamlike quality. It felt the same as when he dreamt of Stiles over the last three years. It felt almost real, almost true, but it never was. It was dark around the edges, and it made Derek worry about the reality of it all. Each time he went to sleep there was darkness and an empty feeling that pervaded his mind. He wasn't anywhere, he didn't even have a body, it was just his consciousness surrounded by darkness. In the mornings he was still tired, his body ached, and his head pounded painfully. Sometimes, when he looked at Stiles, he thought this whole life was fake. He was still dreaming, still seeing something that wasn't really his yet, and it scared him. When he found himself alone, he'd search for Stiles until he could touch him. Until he could run his fingers over his skin, and press frantic, desperate kisses to his lips. Some days, the fear was all consuming. He confessed his fears to Stiles late one night when the two of them were curled together on Stiles bed. Stiles had run his fingers through Derek's hair and kissed him softly. Long, slow kisses that were drawn out, and like nothing they had done before. "I promise, Der. This is real. I'm really home, and I'm not going anywhere without you ever again." Derek believed Stiles, because his voice was earnest and comforting, and because Stiles had never lied to him before.

 

Derek wanted the feeling of dreaming to leave him, but no matter what he did, everything felt soft and blurred around the edges. Voices were too quiet, rooms were too dark, and everything seemed to be a surprise. The pups liked that they suddenly had the ability to sneak up on him, but the older pack members would pull them back and scold them. They told the pups that Derek was human now, and they had to treat him like one. He hated the way they said human, like a biting insult that was somehow dirty when applied to him. Derek had tried his best to avoid the pack, but it was hard to get around or away from them. Some of them wanted to know how it had happened; others ran when he came into the room. He wondered how Sam had dealt with  them when he had first come back from Apollo, but Derek couldn't bring himself to ask. Sam tried his best to help Derek get accustomed to human senses, but each explanation was confusing and addressed issues Derek hadn't even noticed yet. The pack, though most of them tried, had trouble with Derek's change. Some were disappointed and others were confused, but they were almost all standoffish. Even Erica and Isaac had been hesitant for a few days. Only the pups let him know how they felt, telling him they didn't like the way he smelled anymore.

 

Emily had burst into tears when she had seen him for the first time and wailed, "What did you do to Derek?" like she couldn't tell who he was when she looked at him. Peter had scooped her up into his arms and stared wide-eyed and apologetic at Derek. It had taken almost an hour for her to calm down, and try to talk to Derek again. Derek had sat with her and explained what had happened. He'd told her that his wolf had to stay behind so that Stiles could come home again. He told her that he missed his wolf, but he had to protect Stiles because they were soulmates. Emily only kind of understood, but Peter promised to explain it more. Sana was the best of the pups, looking at him like he was strange, but still Derek. She had wrinkled her nose at him and then said very firmly. "I'll get used to it," before she settled on the couch next to him. Derek had wanted to wrap her in a hug but knew she would run away from him if he tried.

 

Even though it seemed impossible, Stiles actually slept less than he did. It had been just over two weeks since they had gotten back from the underworld, and Derek was in the process of moving into Stiles' house. John had given Stiles the keys to the place and told them it was theirs, even after the house in the compound was finished. Stiles had cried as they stepped over the threshold into the house, he told Derek later it was because the house felt dead inside. Derek had done everything he could to fill the house with life again, inviting the pack over constantly until it was so full of energy that Stile seemed to relax. Once the pack was comfortable with Stiles being around again, he gathered all the information on the gods that he could find. He read each book, each scroll, each piece of information he could find. He searched for loopholes and way to break unfair deals with gods. Derek caught him once, zapping himself with a jolt of magic that made his veins glow for a minute. "It keeps me awake," Stiles said. "I've gotta keep looking."

 

"You've got to sleep, you'll die if you keep going, and I have nothing left to trade for you," Derek answered.

 

"Not funny," Stiles said, as Derek dragged him to his feet and to the bed.

 

"It wasn't a joke," Derek said as he curled around Stiles, resting his head on Stiles' chest.

 

"My turn to save you next time," Stiles said through a yawn.

 

"I don't want either of us in that position again," Derek said and he felt Stiles hum his agreement. Derek had woken up to an empty bed, Stiles back at his desk hunched over the books and scrolls. He never found a loophole.

 

"Could you take the bite again?" Erica asked as they sat together in Stiles living room.

 

"It'd kill him," Stiles said, reading through a different book now.

 

"Oh," Erica mumbled. "Why?"

 

"He's already had a wolf, it filled the space inside of him in a specific kind of way... another one wouldn't fill it right. It just couldn't," Stiles said, but it didn't really make sense to Erica or Derek. So Erica just nodded her head and sighed.

 

"Can we get stuff together and trade with Hades?" she asked.

 

"He won't answer me," Stiles answered. "I've tried contacting him like 50 times since I got back. I'm contacting him like a desperately clingy girlfriend who hasn't gotten a text back in five minutes, and her significant other is just trying to take a shit. Stupid jackass."

 

"Maybe he's trying to take a shit?" Erica asked.

 

"Gods don't shit, he's just ignoring me," Stiles answered.

 

"Stiles, you really don't need to--"

 

"If you finish that sentence, Derek Hale, I'm gonna--"

 

"What? Stop trying?" Derek asked, and Stiles frowned at him.

 

"No, I'm gonna kick you out of the house and try harder, just to spite you," Stiles answered sharply. Derek had found quickly when there was no danger and they were safe, that he and Stiles fought. A lot. It was the only thing they could do sometimes. It wasn't bad fighting; there was just something about arguing with Stiles that was exhilarating. Something that made Derek searched for something to argue about, even when it wasn't really worth fighting over. Erica found it all super amusing, but no one else really did. The first time it happened, Derek hadn't even realised they were arguing until Sana shouted at them to stop it. They had both stuttered to a stop and looked embarrassed.

 

"We aren't really fighting," Stiles had said.

 

"It sure looks like fighting," Sana said crossing her arms over her chest.

 

"They're flirting," Maggie said rolling her eyes. Sana looked at her cousin horrified for a moment, before looking back at Derek.

 

"That's even worse!" she shouted. Stiles had laughed and told her he'd been gone for three years, he had a lot of flirting to make up for. They hadn't seen Sana since then, but Laura promised it was just because she was busy with school assignments.

 

"Can you contact another god?" Erica asked, trying to get Aelle to eat some of her lunch.

 

"Persephone isn't answering either, I'm guessing that's Hades' fault too because she loves me," Stiles said.

 

"What about Hermes?" Derek asked.

 

"I'm going to try them next," Stiles said. "Can I borrow your alter stuff?"

 

"Sure," Derek said. He had set up an altar for Hermes just after they had gotten settled, he didn't pray at it, but he left offers once a week. He'd made offering to all the gods he'd met, even leaving pomegranates, honey, and wine for Hades. Stiles had scoffed and said that Hades didn't deserve anything else, but Derek had shrugged and said that Hades had kept them safe as they left the underworld.

 

"Cool, maybe Hermes is more agreeable. Could you run to the green house and get me the jar of dried Crocus flowers? It's purple/blue and just hanging out on the shelf by the door. And some Hawk feathers from Deaton?" Stiles asked, glancing over at Derek.

 

"Sure, anything else?" Derek asked as he got up.

 

"Um, milk for the corn pops," Stiles said and Erica laughed. "What? Derek keeps offering the milk to different gods! There is a god right here! Who just wants milk on his corn pops!"

 

"I'll get extra," Derek said, stopping long enough to kiss Stiles before he left. Erica cooed at the two of them, but she was easy enough to ignore.

 

"Deaton knows your coming," Stiles called after him, as he went out the front door. Derek got the crocus flowers first, finding them after sorting through a hundred different jars with purple and blues plants insides. Then he got the feathers from Deaton.

 

"I'm glad you're so well stocked on feathers," Derek said.

 

"A powerful magic aid," Deaton answered, handing the feathers to Derek. "How is Mr Stilinski doing?"

 

"He's busy trying to retrieve my wolf," Derek answered.

 

"You seem... against that?"

 

"I think he should be using his time for better things," Derek answered.

 

"What would you quantify as, better things?" Deaton asked. "I would say, retrieving his future alpha's wolf, is a very good use of his time." Derek looked at Deaton for a long few minutes, and then he admitted something he had yet to say to anyone.

 

"What if Hades takes Stiles back?"

 

"Ah," Deaton said and then seemed to think for a moment before he nodded his head. "I understand your fear, Derek, but I feel like Stiles wouldn't go without a fight."

 

"You're probably right," Derek said and then held up the feathers. "Thank you for this."  

 

"It's time to worry less, Derek. You have him home, enjoy it," Deaton said as Derek headed for his car. His last stop was the grocery store, where he wanted to get more items for offerings. Derek hadn't been sure at first if the offerings would matter at all, but after the first offering he'd left had disappeared in the morning, he continued. Now, only two weeks later, it had become a habit. He wondered how often the gods reserved offerings now, or if they even really care about them at all. He closed the car door behind him, making it a few distracted steps before bumping into a woman.

 

"I'm sorr--" he started, and then froze. The woman turned to look at him, brown eyes wide in surprise, and her black hair spilling over her shoulders like a waterfall. She was dressed in modern clothing this time, with almost no makeup, and way too much hair, but Derek remembered her. "Ingard?"

 

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" she asked.

 

"Not yet," he answered. "I have something for you."

 

"Sorry?" she asked, her eyebrows drawn together. Derek dug into the pocket of his jacket, having decided to keep the watch on him all the time. He pulled it out and held it toward her.

 

"This is yours," Derek said.

 

"How did you get that?"

 

"It's a long story," he said. She reached for it carefully, letting her fingers brush against the gold casing before she pulled back from it.

 

"You must be why Hermes told me to come here," Ingrid said softly.

 

"Always helpful," Derek answered.  

 

"What do you want for it?" she asked firmly.

 

"Nothing," he said. "You've already helped me."

 

"Not from my point of view," she said.

 

"You were less argumentative when I saw you last," Derek said and she rolled her eyes.

 

"That's because I wasn't at a disadvantage. I knew you and what was going on, clearly I currently do not," she said. "Now, what do you want for it?"

 

"Help," he said. "Help getting my mate back, when ever you end up in that timeframe."

 

"Fine," she said and held her hand out toward him. "Shake on it." Derek grabbed her hand, but as soon as their skin connected, she pulled her hand back.

 

"Ingard?"

 

"Something else," she said. "It seems, Derek Hale, we have another deal for that help." Derek raised an eyebrow at her, and she shrugged her shoulders.

 

"I really don't need anything," Derek said softly but it made her frown more.

 

"It doesn't matter what you need, I refuse to be indebted to a mortal over a stolen watch," she said. Derek looked at her for a minute, trying to find what he could ask for in return, then very slowly he realised what he wanted.

 

"Okay, I know what you can get for me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter chapter, probably because I took a small break from writing this week... by writing two other fics that I've posted. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Also, we've past 80K words!


	20. Chapter 20

"You did what?" Stiles snapped as he turned around to look at Derek. "What the hell?"

 

"What?" Derek asked startled. He had expected Stiles to be worried by the deal, but no part of him thought that Stiles was going to get angry. His chest tightened, and anger raced through him like a panic. It made his limbs burn suddenly and fiercely, and he thought that if he had his wolf he would have shifted.

 

"You can't just go around making deals with random gods, Derek! We've already seen how that goes," Stiles said.

 

"What?" Derek asked again, this time sharper. "Is that how you feel about what I did?"

 

"It's dumb!"

 

"I'm sorry that getting you home was such a dumb idea!" Derek snapped.

 

"No! I didn't mean--god, no! I'm glad I'm home Derek, I'm happy to be with you again, but the gods are dangerous and selfish!"

 

"I've noticed," Derek snapped back. There was a moment where Derek felt a small pleased feeling bubble up in his chest as he watched Stiles' face fall, but the feeling was gone an instant later. The anger in his chest pulsing, and he wanted to get rid of it. Stiles looked so hurt, his hands coming up to his chest, as he tried to steady himself.

 

"I get it, Derek... I didn't--I didn't--"

 

"No, Stiles..." Derek interrupted, but Stiles just held a hand up.

 

"My point is that I _know._ I know how they act and who they are... That's why I know it's dumb," Stiles said firmly, but Derek could still see the hurt behind Stiles' eyes. He set his jaw and held his hand out to Derek. "Give me the watch, Derek." The anger flared again, as he stared at Stiles' hand. Something dark slithered possessively through his chest, breaking through the anger but dispelling none of it. He stuffed his hand into his pocket and clutched the watch tightly in his hand.

 

"No, if I don't have it--"

 

"That's the point!" Stiles shouted, making Derek look up at his face. "If you don't have it, you can't make this deal, and nothing bad can happen! We can figure this out another way, without the f--"

 

"No, we aren't figuring anything out, Stiles! You keep doing things, you keep trying, and you haven't listened to a single thing I've suggested!"

 

"You've spent the last three years trying to get me home! Let me do something!"

 

"You lost three years of your life protecting me and the pack!"

 

"It's what you do!"

 

"This is too!"

 

"Give me the watch, Derek!"

 

"Fuck off," he snapped, harsher than he actually wanted. "Just, fuck off!" he shouted. The words tumbling out of his mouth, but he didn't try to take them back. Instead, he left the grocery bags on the counter, shoved the eagle feathers at Stiles, and stormed out of the house. It was stupid, the whole thing was stupid, but... but it was there. The dark, ugly feeling that was burning under his skin like a monster. It felt all-consuming and hateful, and for a moment, Derek wondered if something else was filling him up. Something slipping into the place his wolf had been, and settling in the darkness to make him sick and broken. Derek pushed the thoughts away, pushed the dirty angry thoughts deeper, and walked until his feet hurt. He walked until he found a park, and then dropped himself down onto one of the benches. He pulled the watch from his pocket and flipped it back and forth between his hands.

 

The watch was still too hot, burning and heavy in his hands like a coal that had been pulled from a fireplace. It hurt his hands more now, burning red marks against his skin, that didn't fade or heal. He closed one of his hands around the watch, letting it blister his skin until he couldn't stand it anymore. "Does that help?" a voice asked from beside him. Derek twisted quickly to the side, to look at a young man who smelled so strongly of magic, that it overpowered Derek for a moment. He shook his head and coughed as the man took a step closer to him. "Sorry, it will disperse in a few minutes."

 

"Luckily I'm only human," Derek mumbled.

 

"You're human? I thought you were a wolf?"

 

"Sorry, who are you?" Derek asked, turning back to the man. The man looked a little surprised by his question and then made a small surprised noise when Derek looked at him.

 

"Sorry, I'm Jonathan, it's a family name," he said, holding one of his hands out to Derek.

 

"Okay?" Derek said slowly, but he still shook the man's hand. The smell of magic did fade away, making it easier to look at Jonathan. The man was probably Derek's age, with dark hair, brown skin, and mismatched eye colours. Both eyes had green in them, but one of them had a burning amber colour that ringed his pupil and bloomed like a starburst. He was covered in freckles and had an easy smile that Derek couldn't place, but there was something familiar about it. "Are you a god?" he asked and the man laughed.

 

"Do I look like one?"

 

"About as much as the other ones I've met do," Derek said.

 

"I'm not a god, no... but my soulmate is one," he said softly.

 

"How's that working for you?" Derek asked, feeling the same darkness twist inside of him. Jonathan smiled warmly at Derek, he held out one of his arms, a second later he pulled out a pen, and drew a small heart on his arm. He was silent for a long minute, and then very slowly a larger heart appeared around the one he had drawn. It was there for a few seconds, and then they watched as it was clearly scrubbed away by the other person.

 

"She's... unsure how to process what we are," Jonathan said. "But, we're working on it."

 

"Who is she?" Derek asked.

 

"Ah, I can't say, she'd be upset," Jonathan answered.

 

"Is it Hecate?" Derek asked. "I've met a lot of her old soulmates and consorts."

 

"No, it's not. Mines..." he stopped, laughed, and then shook his head. "Well, she's herself, which is what makes it hard. She's hundreds of years old, and she's never had a soulmate before. I'm a bit of a surprise. It's worth it though, fighting through all of this hardness. When we are together, it can be perfect. Those quiet moments, when she lets herself just be happy. Sometimes you have to be mad, but... hurting yourself doesn't really fix anything, you know. Do you want me to heal your hand for you?"

 

"What?"

 

"Your hand, I could heal the burn, if you want," he said.

 

"Why do you care so much?" he asked.

 

"Because" he answered and he shrugged his shoulders. Derek held his blistered hand out to Jonathan, letting him wrap his fingers around Derek's palm. It was more trust than Derek normally gave people, but there was something about him, that put Derek at ease. Purple magic seeped from his palm, spreading over the skin and erasing the injury. "You always punish yourself after you get mad," Jonathan said softly.

 

"What makes you think that?" Derek asked, as he finally placed the smile.

 

"Because you're my Alpha," he answered. Derek stared at him and shook his head.

 

"I can't be," he said. "I'm not even a werewolf anymore."

 

"The future isn't set," Jonathan answered. "You've never mentioned losing your wolf before... I might get home and find out that you aren't Alpha anymore. Mum'll be upset, but it will probably only take a few days to readjust to great aunt Laura."

 

"Your mum? Claudia?" he asked.

 

"My mum," he said and nodded.

 

"You're time walking," Derek almost choked on the words.

 

"I'm pretty good at it too," Jonathan answered.

 

"Why are you here?" Derek asked.

 

"Because I need help, and... I didn't know who else to ask," Jonathan answered, shrugging his shoulders.

 

"Couldn't ask me in the future? Am I dead?" Derek asked.

 

"I just told you that you're my Alpha that indicates life. But, I did, you recommended I come see you now," Jonathan answered.

 

"What do you need?"

 

"Wine from a king," he said, and then grinned awkwardly.

 

"And... and how can I help with that?" Derek asked.

 

"Well, you could gi--" Jonathan stopped talking, his eyes snapping to something behind Derek. "This took too long. Shit, I've been doing too much of this. I'll be back, I have to go."

 

"No, wait!" Derek said, twisting to look over his shoulder but nothing was there. He turned back to Jonathan who had scrambled to his feet and had thrown his arms out to the sides. "Wait!" Derek managed to get to his feet, reach for Jonathan, and caught hold of nothing. There was a burst of magic, purple colouring the world for a second, and then Derek was alone. He stared at the spot Jonathan had been standing, the grass burnt away in a circle. Then, he felt a hand curl around his shoulder, but when he turned, there was still nothing behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is an unacceptably short chapter that is mostly dialogue and is two weeks late. Guys, I hit such a block with this story. The characters were fighting against the plan I had, so I changed it and they all seem much more willing to go along with it now. I'll try and get a few chapters done and posted over the next little while, and get back into uploading once a week.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, just a warning, there is a fight in this chapter that can technically be seen as domestic violence. Because it's a couple fighting, but it's really not domestic abuse that way.

No one was home when Derek arrived an hour after sunset, everything was dark inside, and Derek was relieved to find it that way. He wanted to be angry with himself, he had spent so long trying to get Stiles home, and now he was here. They were together but all Derek wanted to do was hide from him. He was fucking relieved to find himself alone again. He wanted to be mad, wanted to force himself to stop, they'd tried so hard to be together... he should just let Stiles have his way, but he couldn't. He ran a hand up through his hair and then walked through each room of the house. Something in the back of his mind whispering to him to keep looking, to make sure no one was hiding in the house. He couldn't listen for heartbeats or breathing, he had to look and find. When he was sure that he was alone, really properly alone, in the house. He sunk down on the couch and pulled the watch from his pocket. He carefully turned it over in his hand like he had at the park, not holding it long enough to actually burn himself. He realised, suddenly, that Stiles would take it if Derek went to sleep.

 

He'd take it and he'd wreck everything, trying to... what? Why did it matter so much to Stiles, what Derek had done? Why did it upset him so much? What was it about the gods and the underworld that Stiles didn't want Derek to see or know? Then he remembered Stiles rambling outside of the cave, talking about bargains and deals and... a kiss? The word floated through his head, catching on stray burrs in his mind, and hooking there. He got to his feet, went to the kitchen, and dropped the watch into a box of bran cereal. Then, he went to bed, and hoped he'd wake up feeling better. Instead he woke up to the light of the bedroom flipping on, and Stiles shaking him awake. "Where the fuck is the watch, Derek?" he snapped.

 

"What the hell, Stiles?"

 

"Where is the watch, Derek?!"

 

"Why do you want it?"

 

"Because you can't do this deal! You haven't thought this--"

 

"Why? Why the hell are you so secretive about Purgatory?"

 

"I'm not!" Stiles snapped.

 

"Sure seems like you are!" Derek shouted, pushing Stiles away from him and off the edge of the bed.

 

"Oh my god, you're a child!" he shouted. Anger twisted through Derek's chest, wrapping tightly around his insides, and snaking up through his throat.

 

"You're lying to me," he snapped, as he tossed the blankets away and threw himself out of the bed.

 

"I don't--"

 

"Who did you kiss?" Derek asked as he stepped into Stiles space.

 

"What?"

 

"You said you kissed someone," Derek snapped.

 

"Is that why you've been acting so weird? You're the one that said we'd deal with it later! I'm sorry it hadn't come up yet! I was making a deal for a piece of amber that contained the last bit of power I needed," Stiles answered, trying to take a step away from him, but Derek followed.  

 

"And you needed to kiss them for it?"

 

"Yes, that was the deal, Derek. A kiss for the power," Stiles snapped. They were too close together, face-to-face, and screaming.

 

"Whose idea was that?"

 

"Idea?"

 

"Yours or theirs?"

 

"Why does it matter?"

 

"Why are you so against telling me?"

 

"Because you've apparently gone crazy!"

 

"You're the one who stormed in here, turning on the light like an asshole, and screaming at me to wake up!"

 

"You're the one that's making deal with random gods!"

 

"So did you!" Derek shouted.

 

"It wasn't random, okay? Hecate told me who I needed to get help from! There was a plan and needed power!"

 

"Who did you kiss, Stiles?"

 

"It was Apollo!" Stiles shouted back. "It was Apollo. I needed power from three consorts. Are you happy? Congratulations! You figured out the big fucking secret, that wasn't even a secret, Derek!" 

 

"So if you kissed the one you apparently hated, what did you give the other two?" Derek shouted.

 

"You... you fucking asshole!" Stiles screamed, one of his hands flying forward and colliding with Derek's chest. There was a moment where everything went silent, the sound sucked from the room and buried into Derek's skull. Then his vision swam away, as a blinding burst of silver light exploded in front of him. He felt himself lift up off the ground, fly through the air, slam into the wall, and crumple to the ground like a paper doll. Derek heard Stiles say something, muffled and distant, but he couldn't focus on it. His chest ached painfully like his ribs had been turned to powder inside of him. He lifted one of his hands, running it up his chest, collecting blood as he went. The blood was dark--too dark, shining, thick and dripping between his fingers. "Oh my god, Derek!" Stiles was shouting, but his voice was a distant echo. He was apologising, conjuring bursts of panicked magic trying to heal Derek. Had he done this on purpose? He was crying, Derek realised, tears streaking down his cheeks. He was lying, something in the back of his mind told him.

 

Derek couldn't focus on the room, his vision blurred, and suddenly he was looking at the ceiling. He blinked his eyes a few times, and a feeling of comfortable warmth settled in his chest. He remembered it from before, the sudden sureness that he was going to die. Then, like the time before, just as Derek felt himself begin to slip away, something else tugged in his chest. "Oh," he said softly. "Something else..." He reached for it again, dug through the tar-like hatred inside of him, and pulled at the thing until they were the same. His body shifted, forced itself up until it was towering over Stiles, hulking and huge. He was on his hands and knees, Stiles collapsed backwards, staring up looking terrified of him. Derek growled lower and deep in the back of his throat.

 

"Derek," Stiles said. "Derek, listen to me, you're still bleeding, you aren't healing. You have to shift back."

 

"You tried to kill me," he said.

 

"I didn't try to kill you, it was an accident. I--I haven't mastered disconnecting my emotions from my magic yet," Stiles rambled.

 

"You tried to kill me," Derek said again. He reached out, closed his hand around Stiles, and lifted him off the ground. Derek's claws torn through the sides of Stiles' shirt, sinking into his sides and then like he was nothing, he threw him. Derek watched as Stiles body crashed through the window, shattering the glass, and disappearing from view. He felt the roar rip from his throat, shaking the house around him. Then, he rushed forward and slammed through the wall, dropping to the lawn after Stiles.

 

"Derek!" Stiles screamed, "fuck, Derek! Something is wrong with you!" Stiles shouted.

 

"I'm not the one who just tried to kill their soulmate!"

 

"I didn't mean too, Derek! I didn't--" Stiles coughed painfully, one arm wrapped around his stomach. He had managed to get to his feet and take a few staggered steps forward and then collapsed to his knees. Derek stalked toward him, his feet leaving trails of dark liquid behind him. "Derek, please," Stiles said, as Derek stood over him.

 

"Stiles!" it was Erica's voice, panicked and frantic. "What the fuck is going on? Oh my god! What is that?" She ran to Stiles, grabbed him, pulled him back to his feet.

 

"Get out of here, something's wrong with Derek," Stiles said.

 

"Where is he?" she asked.

 

"That's Derek," Stiles said.

 

"That's Derek?" she repeated, frantically. She pulled Stiles a step backwards, making them both stumble as Derek took another step forward.

 

"Hound of God," Stiles said. "That's what one looks like."

 

"Good to know," she hissed. "What the fuck is wrong with him? He looks like he's fucking melting!"

 

"Stop it," Derek growled.

 

"Oh good, you can still speak. What is--"

 

"Get off of him. He's a liar," Derek snapped.

 

"So you're going to kill him?" Erica asked as she twisted a little, shoving Stiles behind her.

 

"Erica!"

 

"Shut up, Stiles," she snapped. Derek stopped walking forward, he didn't want to hurt Erica... he didn't want to hurt Stiles either--but... but he--he had to. He fucking had to make Stiles realise--what?

 

"He tried to kill me," Derek said.

 

"What are you talking about?"

 

"He tried to kill me!" Derek shouted, pressing his hand to his chest and pulling away long strings of sticky tar.

 

"It's why he shifted," Stiles said. "He was dying."

 

"Why the fuck did you try to kill him?"

 

"I didn't, it was an accident," Stiles hissed.

 

"Move away from him, Erica," Derek snapped. "I don't think that's even really Stiles." The words were out of his mouth, and Derek was suddenly sure it was true. It wasn't Stiles, which had to be it. It was something else, someone else pretending. It was a trick; Hades had tricked him and had kept Stiles away from him.

 

"This is definitely Stiles," Erica said. "I can smell him."

 

"You don't know what those creatures were like, how real they were," Derek said. "He's been acting wrong."

 

"No, he hasn't! He's been just what he always is," Erica answered. "You've been weird, Derek. We have been letting you be because things are weird. You lost your wolf, we didn't want to push, but you can't... can't do whatever the fuck this is!"

 

"No," Derek roared, his voice tearing from his throat. He realised that the rest of the pack would be able to hear him if he kept going. They'd come, they'd protect that thing standing behind Erica. He had to get it; he had to get the thing from Erica. He lunged forward at them, grabbing and throwing Erica to the side. Stiles managed a few steps back, but Derek reached for him.

 

"Alpha!" a voice--Jonathan's voice--screamed from behind him. Derek turned, eyes flashing, and fangs bore. The smell of magic hit Derek again, making him stumbled as it flooded his senses, and when he had regained his balance, Jonathan was running at him. He was followed by a trail of purple magic that lit up the outside world, and then Jonathan had grabbed his leg. "Oh fuck, I hope you know how to deal with this," he shouted. Then everything went sideways, Derek felt his body twist and fall, his vision went purple, and a second later he was hitting the ground.

 

"Fuck!" Jonathan snapped. Derek growled, low in his throat, and then rolled onto his side. Before he could get any further, a hand closed over the side of his neck.

 

"This is gonna hurt, Dad," a woman said, and then it did. Something that felt like electricity coursed through his body, making him curl in on himself. He felt his claws sink into his arms as he thrashed back and forth, and then he was human again. "Come on, come on, move slowly." Someone was shifting and moving him until he was sitting up. Then the person moved back away from him. Derek rubbed his hand over his eyes and blinked a purple film away from his vision.

 

"Oh god! I didn't know what else to do!" Jonathan was shouting, but Derek just looked around. He wasn't outside anymore; instead, he was in a living room... the one he had designed. His body ached still, and when Derek looked back down he was still bleeding through his mostly torn clothing.

 

"Don't worry," he heard another voice say. "I knew it was going to happen." Derek twisted around, turning to look up at the owner of the voice, to look up at, himself.

 

"Holy shit," Derek said. The other version of himself was years older, well into his 80's or 90's, not that Derek really could be totally sure. Jonathan had moved a few feet away and was standing next to Claudia. He looked panicked, glancing between his mother, his grandfather, and then to Derek on the floor.

 

"Hello," the older version of him said, and grinned at him in a way that looked terrifyingly like Derek's father.

 

"I don't--"

 

"Don't worry, Jonathan, can you come heal this?"

 

"I can go get Aba, he could do a way better job of tha--"

 

"You need to do it, Jonathan," he said sternly.

 

"Oh god, oh god," Jonathan muttered, as he walked toward Derek. He slowly crouched down his hands shaking in front of him. Derek hissed in pain, as Jonathan pulled away the last shreds of Derek's shirt. "It's gonna scar if I do this," Jonathan insisted.

 

"It's okay, Pup. Please."

 

"Oh fuck, I cause the scars on your chest," Jonathan said, but he still held his hands out and watched as the purple light flicked and sparked from his fingers.

 

"Don't use that language," the older version of Derek said.

 

"Nah, no, fuck this, I'm swearing all I want right now, and I'm 26. I'm definitely going to use that language," Jonathan said. His voice had steadied, and Derek thought the rambling was just to settle himself. Derek felt the magic slip through his skin, knitting the wounds closed, and stitching him together like a patchwork doll. He gasped as the last of the wounds closed and then choked on the breath. He felt the rattle in his lungs, as he coughed and curled onto his side again. "I can't fix that," Jonathan said.

 

"I know, come on," the older version of Derek said, holding his hand out to him. Derek waited as the ache subsided before he reached out and took his hand. He let himself be pulled to his feet, feeling a stick and pull of his body leaving the ground. The older version of Derek, hooked an arm around him, keeping him upright and stable. "You've been carried a lot lately," he commented, sounding almost fond. Then he was being half carried and half dragged through the house toward the office upstairs. Derek coughed again, feeling the anger in his chest twist and burn. Then, they were at the top of the stairs and pushing into the office. The room was... a mess. A huge wooden desk covered in papers, with books stacked in piles on the floor. The bookshelves were no better, books turned on their sides, made into strange stacks.

 

The older version of himself, let Derek down into one of the chairs and turned around to close the door behind them. "When do I get messy?" Derek asked, trying to keep from sounding panicked.

 

"Never, Stiles has been borrowing books... and returning them..."

 

"Oh good," Derek muttered.

 

"We have a lot to talk about," he said, and then stabbed something into the back of Derek's neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter! A little longer! I gotta get a few more chapters done this month, because in November I'm taking that whole month for Nanowrimo and probably won't get any writing for this done.


	22. Chapter 22

He could see clouds of colour, twirling reds and pinks that clashed in his vision. They moved like smoke in water until the colour dispersed and all that was left behind was white light. It settled in front of his chest, hovering there for a moment before it fired into the distance. It lit stars as it went, leaving a trail of lines through the air like he had seen so many times before. He could see the twisting turning paths of stars and darkness, the network of lines filled up the world around him. He as above a single star, like it was marking his place on a map, before a line extended out from it and him, into the rest of the lines beyond. He felt like he was floating there, suspended by unseen forces to keep him off the ground. It was forcing him to see out over the network. There was an ache in his chest, throbbing and constant, making it feel like his ribs where collapsing inwards. He pressed a hand to his chest, feeling the solid mass of his own body for only a second before his hand sunk into his chest. As if he was pressing against an ice-covered lake, and suddenly the ice cracked and his hand was submerged in the freezing water below. He gasped, yanked his hand free, and sent sticky oil rainbow threads out into the air around him. It started small, like spider webs on the breeze, but slowly it began to pour out of him like he’d broken a dam.

 

The light of the stars bounced and danced over the black liquid tar that was seeping out and away from him. He could feel himself going with it, unravelling from the inside out, and disappearing out into the darkness. It felt like his insides were melting away, leaving nothing behind by a hollow shell that was shaped like him. He reached out for the tar, desperate to catch the pieces of himself that were disappearing and shove them back inside. His fingers brushed through the tar, breaking the strands and sending them flying in different directions. The stars around him flickered and pulsed, and then slowly, one by one, they started to fall. They tore the sky as they went, opening huge gaping pockets of twilight behind the darkness. The purples and reds bled through the tears, pouring into blackness, and invaded the space. He grabbed frantically at the tar, dragging handfuls back toward himself before reaching out again. He suddenly realised he was screaming, his voice lost in the nothing, with nowhere for the sound to catch and echo. Then, like the stars, he was falling.

 

He twisted around as he fell, air whipping past him like it wanted him hurt. He spun around as he rapidly approached the ground, threw his arms forward, and hit. He felt the bones in his hands shattered, the pain splintering through his body as the ground exploded open below him. He turned one last time and watched, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, as the network of lines and lights shattered above him and plummeted after him. He skewed his eyes shut, engulfed himself in voluntary darkness. There were another few minutes of pain and panic before everything stopped. A moment later he could feel the breeze against his cheek, and then there were fingers running along his forehead. He tried to open his eyes, but it was a struggle. His eyes felt glued shut, stinky and impossible to open so he gave up trying. He lay stretched out and aching on the ground. "You're a curious man," a woman said. Derek struggled to place her voice; it was familiar but far off like he was underwater.

 

"But a good one," a different woman said. "Are you awake, Derek?"

 

"He is," the first woman said. "Come on now, push through the sludge. It's not awake here."

 

"Don't force him. He's been through a lot. Maybe he isn't awake yet, still coming along."

 

"Please, can't you feel it? You're his goddess. You should be able to feel your own--"

 

"He has clearly taken a different god."

 

"That barely counts; soulmates don't mean you give up on your god."

 

"He's never had a shrine to me," she said, and Derek remembered her voice now.

 

"Come on, Derek," the first woman said again but now she sounded unimpressed. "Push through the sludge." He dug down, forcing his consciousness forward, pushing past the heavy liquid weight that was burying him alive. It still took a few minutes, but he managed to open his eyes, blinking over and over again to try and clean away the stickiness.

 

"Oh, there you are," Leto said, smiling down at him.

 

"What..." he said, but the other woman shushed him. He stared at her and blinked a few more times like it would change what he was seeing. "Agatha?" he asked, confused.

 

"Hello," she said and beamed at him. "It's been a while."

 

"But--"

 

"Now, now don't worry about all of that. Come on, we need to chat," she said.

 

"Is it about rent?" he asked, and she laughed.

 

"It's a little expensive, but we'll talk about that later," she said and looked over at Leto. "He's my landlord," she added.

 

"You've really been living on earth?" Leto asked, sounding almost scandalized by the information.

 

"Hecate snuck me over," she explained. Derek stared at Agatha, unsure if he was dreaming or dead, or something else altogether. She had lived in his apartment building before he had even bought it, filling one suite on the main floor. She had never left, as far as he knew, she had been there when he’d moved out of the loft and into Stiles house a few months earlier. He had always thought she was a sweet old lady, but besides a few lunches and some baked goods she gave him, he hadn't interacted with her in a long time. Her long white hair hung around her shoulders now, instead of being pulled up into a tight bun. It made her look younger than she normally did and more carefree.

 

"I'm confused," Derek said.

 

"That’s to be expected, I’ll explain later,” Agatha said.

 

"How did I get here?" Derek asked.

 

"Same as always," Leto said.

 

"I don't know the answer to that," Derek managed to say, as a sharp stab of frustration fired through his chest.

 

"It's waking up," Leto said softly.

 

"Oh my, that is nasty," Agatha said, pointing at his chest. Derek shifted slowly, trying to push himself up into a sitting position, but both women firmly pressed their hands against his shoulders.

 

"You got here because of your own abilities, I just tugged and you came," Leto said.

  
"And Hermes brought me," Agatha said and then clicked her tongue. She reached out and pressed her hand against Derek's chest. There was a second where Derek was terrified that her hand would shatter him, and sink into his chest cavity. Instead, she was pulling it away a moment later, dragging huge sticky strings of tar after her hand.

 

"What the hell is that?" Derek snapped like it was her fault.

 

"You're sickness," Leto answered softly.

 

"That's not true at all," Agatha snapped. "That's you, Derek. That's what you're letting yourself become. A creature made up of hate and jealousy, not getting help, just stewing on it." Derek suddenly and violently remembered the creatures from the Underworld, with its bubbling voice and tar coated body. He remembered that Hermes told him, it was a creature consumed by hate, or... or was it by any negative emotion?

 

“Asteria!” Leto snapped. “You can’t just—“

 

“Oh, he’s a smart boy who is being dumb, Leto! He needs to be told!”

 

“Move,” Leto snapped, pushing at the woman next to her. “Come on Derek, let me help you up.” Her hand slipped under Derek’s shoulder, pushing and moving him slowly until he was sitting up. His head drooped forward as he moved, but now he could see his chest. There were dark patches on his shirt, leaving large sticky pools over his clothing. He moved his arms slowly, they still ached like they had been broken, but they were thankfully fine.

 

“It's not his fault," Hermes said, suddenly standing beside them. Their hair and clothing was a mess, and there was a slight panting to their voice.

 

"What do you mean?" Agatha asked. "I've never seen it not be a person's own fault."

 

"Derek met Iovita," Hermes said.

 

"I thought Iovita was dead," Leto said.

 

"Is," Hermes answered, clapping their hands together and twisting them like they were crushing something.

 

"Ah," Leto said, understanding what they meant. Hermes knelt down in front of Derek, smiling just a little at him.

 

"I'm sorry, Derek. I didn't check well enough, I missed some of the tar inside of you. I let that thing continue to exist," Hermes said, pressing their fingers into the tar.

  
"Can I fix it?" Derek asked, but the words hurt to say. The tar seemed to try and swallow them inside his throat, turning and clutching at them as they passed, making the bubble out like the creature in the Underworld.

 

"Yes," Hermes answered. "But, it will hurt."

 

"It always does," Derek answered and then very quietly he added, "Retrieving the lost is a painful thing."

 

"We'll fix it, Derek," Hermes told him, and then pressed two fingers against Derek's forehead and knocked him backwards. His body hit the ground, convulsed, and then his eyes were snapping opening. He was staring up at the ceiling of the office in his future home, and then strong hands were pulling him off the ground.

 

"Don't move," his own voice told him. Derek listened, even though he wanted to tear away from the grip. The tar inside of him twisted against the touch, slammed against Derek's ribs, and stuck firm there.

 

"God, you were a good-looking young man," Stiles said, and Derek couldn't stop himself from turning to look in the direction of the voice. Stiles was much older as well, he looked about the same age as Derek, but still years younger than either of them really were.

 

"Not anymore?" The older Derek asked.

 

"Nah, now you're a smoking hot old man," Stiles said, stepping toward him. Derek tracked Stiles' arm, watched his hand lift up and slide over the other Derek's shoulders. The touch was one of familiarity and quiet comfort. It made his body burn with anger and hatred. He wanted to lash out, reach for Stiles and slam him to the ground. But, he couldn't move anymore, his arms and legs were too heavy, weighed down by magic. Stiles yanked his hand off of old Derek's shoulders, and it seemed to surprise the both of them. "I remember that look," Stiles said, his voice tinged with sadness.

 

"We'll fix it," the older Derek told him. "I promise." He grabbed at Stiles' arm, pulled him close, and hugged him tightly.

 

"I told you I've forgiven you," Stiles said quietly, but it didn't seem to ease the tension.

 

"I know," the older Derek said and released him.

 

"I'll leave you two alone," Stiles said, and then kissed him quickly. Then, he bounced on his feet and added, "even though I am walking out of a literal wet dream here." He waved his hand over his shoulder as he retreated. Derek heard the door open, Stiles paused long enough to say, "a once in a lifetime opportunity that I'm being deprived of!" and then he yanked the door closed. The older version of Derek huffed out a laugh, and the happiness inside of him made Derek hate himself. A few minutes later, the weight in Derek's limbs eased, and he was able to lift his hands from his sides.

 

"What did you do to me?" Derek finally asked, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. He could feel three indents in his skin, from whatever had been stabbed there.

 

"Forced a dream," he answered, dragging his chair around his desk.

 

"Why?"

 

"So Leto and Asteria could look at you," he said, as he adjusted the chair until he was comfortable.

 

"Who is Asteria?"

 

"Oh..." he said, and then laughed a little, "I have trouble remembering when I met each god. Asteria is the reason you've been seeing the future. She's been giving you the prophecies. And the star you used on Cerberus."

 

"I didn't use the star on him," Derek answered.

 

"You didn't throw it at him?"

               

"He crushed me, it exploded in my pocket," Derek said.

 

"Hmm, a little different then. He crushed me, but the star had fallen out of my pocket, I grabbed it and tossed it in his face. Asteria made sure we could get one to use."

 

"I didn't even know what it was until Hermes told me."

 

"Neither did I." The conversation slipped away and all Derek could do was stare at his older self. He mapped the wrinkles on his face, the grey in his hair, the way his body looked smaller and weaker. But... he wasn't weaker. The strength was obvious in the way he moved and held himself. "It's strange looking at you, like looking in a mirror that's got things wrong."

 

"Like a funhouse," Derek said.

 

"I'm not a fan," he said. "Not since Apollo's carnival."

 

"Right," Derek said.

 

"You will get better, you know," he said softly. Derek turned his head toward the closed door, to where he thought Stiles must still be standing, listening.

 

"It's too late," Derek said. The tar inside of him twisted and bubbled in his chest.

 

"For what?"

 

"For us," Derek said, still staring toward the door. "I've wrecked it... I've broken it all. The stars fell and the family shattered. I watched it happened. I _made_ it happened."

 

"Things change," the older version of Derek said.

 

"Will you keep existing? With Stiles, Claudia, and Jonathan?"

 

"Not if you don't let it happen," he answered.

 

"I've even wrecked my own life," Derek said.

 

"You haven't wrecked anything," he said, reaching out and grabbing at Derek's arm. His touch sent a sharp of pain through his arm, making Derek yank away from him, and turning back to look at him.

 

"It's too late," Derek said.

 

"It's--"

 

"I hate him," Derek interrupted. "I look at him and I know I hate him."

 

"You're sick," he answered, reaching for his younger self again. This time, Derek caught sight of the scar wrapped around the older man's hand and snapped his eyes up to him.

 

"That is the same," he said.

 

"Yes."

 

"Did you get your wolf back?"

 

"No."

 

"But... you're the alpha?"

 

"Yes."

 

"How?"

 

"I can't tell you,"

 

"Why not?" Derek snapped.

 

"It might change what happens."

 

"We're already changing what happens," Derek said.

 

"Not yet," he said. "This will be fine."

 

"How do you know?"

 

"Because I told him," Ingard said from just behind Derek. He jumped in his seat, snapping his attention toward her. "How's it going, baby grand?" she asked, before ducking down and pressing a cherry red kiss to Derek's cheek. Then she stepped past him and pressed a kiss to the side of the older version of Derek's head. She picked a small glass orb off the desk next to Derek, and rolled it around on her palm, to fidget with something.

 

"Not the distrustful one, then?" Derek asked, lifting his hand up and scrubbing at the lipstick on his face.

 

"Want me to be?" she asked, snapping the gum in her mouth.

 

"Do you get your watch back?" he asked.

 

"Not yet," she answered, as she blew a bubble and popped it. "Looks like you got a nasty bit of work there in your chest."

 

"I've been told," Derek answered.

 

"Nasty little cold," she said.

 

"That's bullshit," he snapped. Ingard glanced toward the other Derek, raised an eyebrow, and then popped another bubble.

 

"It's my fault," Derek snapped, "just leave it."

 

"Mmm, this sounds like a martyr without a cause," she said. "Who's in there with you Derek?"

 

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said, but they all knew he was just being purposely difficult." Ingard leaned down in front of him, her hands planted awkwardly on her thighs, making her breasts press together and forward as she moved. Derek leaned back, further away from her, but something inside of him wanted him to lean forward, pressing against her.

 

"Hello, Iovita," she said. "Are you making yourself at home inside the soulmate of a god?" Derek opened his mouth to say something, but the voice that came from him was wrong at the words weren't his.

 

"Chronos," the voice said.

 

"You and I both know that my names Ingard," she said, reaching one of her hands forward. She dragged her fingers through the tar on his chest, and it sent a strange spike of arousal through his body. Derek recoiled and Ingard laughed brightly. She stood up straight and turned back to look at the older Derek. "Are you going to stay for this, it might get a little weird," she said.

 

"You want me to leave you alone with my body, and a creature from hell that wants to fuck you?" he asked.

 

"It's about your comfort, Derek. I don't mind you seeing what we get up to," she said.

 

"I'll stay," he said.

 

"You could get hurt," she said, losing the teasing tone her voice had a second before. The younger Derek watched them, feeling the darkness bubbling inside of him, and then, like he was nothing at all, the darkness dragged him away. He felt a tug on his consciousness and suddenly he wasn't in control of his body anymore. He could see through his eyes and hear them speaking, but it when he tried to speak or move nothing happened.

 

"I'll be fine," he said, and she nodded. Ingard leant over the desk, grabbed a tissue from a box, spat her gum out and threw it away. Then she turned back around, and Derek screamed inside his own head. "Now, let's see if I can suck that nasty little bug out of you."

 

"Be my guest," Derek said and shifted his legs apart. His head tilted to the side as he stared at her. A strange smile crept across her face, and then she laughed.

 

"Cheeky," she said, biting her lip and raising an eyebrow at him. "Didn't know you were strong enough to take over Iovita."

 

"This body is mine now," Iovita said, and slowly rose from the chair. Ingard tilted her head from one side to the other, like she was trying to figure out what to do first.

 

"Stiles," she called out, and a second later the door was open and closed again. Iovita turned around, faced Stiles and Derek could see the terror on his face.

  

"I don't remember you being this strong, this fast," Stiles said, as he schooled his features. "What do you need, Ingard?"

 

"Dish soap," she said.

 

"Going to scrub me out?" Iovita asked, looking back at her.

 

"Like a stain," she answered, and then Stiles had his arms wrapped around Derek's body. Iovita shouted as Ingard moved forward, and forced the glass orb she had picked up earlier, into Derek's open mouth. "Come on, Derek a little help!" Ingard shouted. Derek reached through the tar inside of him, tried to pull himself out, but he couldn't. He was held fast, and no matter how he struggled against it, there was more tar to pull him down. Derek heard the glass orb shatter in his mouth, tasted the rush of warm blood as Iovita spat the broken glass in Ingard's face, and knocked Stiles backwards. Then, like it was the most natural thing in the world, Iovita shifted. Derek's body twisted and warped, it grew until it was huge and hulking, crouched in the too small space of the office.

 

"Fuck," Stiles said and Iovita launched himself out the office window and ran because he was going to outrun death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Canadian Thanksgiving! (Almost, still lots of people I know are celebrating it today and are just gonna chill tomorrow)
> 
> I have had plans for Agatha since I first mentioned her back in the story where Derek and Stiles had their first date. Also, this chapter is a better length than the last few have been. 
> 
> The fic as a whole is longer than 150k now too. Geez.


	23. Chapter 23

There was sound floating in and out of his mind; words, noises, even screaming. It exploded around him in waves and pulses, until it was too loud, too sharp, too painful for even human ears. He wanted to throw his hands up, cover his ears, block out the sound that was pervading his mind, but he couldn't move. He remembered, idly, that he wasn't in control of himself anymore. He remembered it as he felt his claw sink into flesh, and tear at it. An animal that this thing had caught in the forest, no people had been hurt, not yet. "Stupid man," Iovita said, in a voice all its own. "All these things inside of you and you haven't bothered to learn."

 

"I barely knew it was there," Derek snapped, and the creature hummed.

 

"I have a pack," it said. "Back, back, back. I have a pack. Let's go back, Derek."

 

"You have a pack?" he asked.

 

"I have a pack," it answered, and whatever creature it had been eating was tossed aside. Then, he was standing moving forward, until he was running again. It threw its huge arm out, tore its claws through reality, and cut open a huge pocket into nothingness. "Back, back, back," it said and leapt into the darkness. There was fear that tightened in Derek's chest because he didn't really know what the creature meant. Was the pack one that Iovita belonged to when it was alive? Or was it talking about the pack connection Derek had? They plummeted through the darkness, and it felt like they were falling, but Derek couldn't see anything. Iovita was howling, loud and echoing through the void around them, and then darkness split and the world was in front of them again. Iovita launched them through the opening and landed with practised grace, that scared Derek.

 

"You were a wolf?" Derek asked, and the creature grunted.

 

"I am a wolf," it corrected. The words curled around Derek, tugging him deeper into the tar that filled his body. "I am a wolf, I am a hound. I will stay this way... or I will be better." The creature growled low and long and turned slowly around.

 

"Where are we?" Derek asked, and it growled louder.

 

"We are in the wrong time," he said. "This is not my time." He slashed the air in front of him again, jumped and raced through the darkness, and landed in the same place he had been a moment before. Iovita tilted his head back and sniffed the air, taking in huge lungfuls of air, and then it turned and started walking. "This is not my time, but this place is right." Derek was suddenly aware of the world around them, a huge sprawling farm that he... recognized. He knew this place, he had been here before in the British countryside. Things were... things were the same, they were the same.

 

"This belongs to the Rossborough pack," Derek said. "We've gone back in time."

 

"Your time. My pack," Iovita snarled.

 

"No," Derek snapped, "are they even the same pack when you were alive?"

 

"My pack, my sister, she's still alive. Killed me for my position, killed me for my title, killed me for my power," it growled. "She hasn't arrived in hell, hasn't come to face me, the coward." Derek tore at the tar binding him, reaching frantic and panicked toward his own body. He had wanted to wait let the creature tire, pray that it didn't hurt anymore before he tried to take control again, but now he was panicked.

 

"No! Stop!" Derek screamed.

 

"You know them," Iovita said as it jerked to a stop. "You know them and they know you." Then it was laughing like the whole world had come together. Iovita shuddered forward again, each step they took, falling out of the shift and into Derek's body. He dragged his claws over Derek's arm and chest; there was still dirt and blood on his hands and legs from killing the creature before. His mouth was bleeding again, now that he'd shifted back, the shards of glass gone but the wounds not properly healed.

 

"Stop it," Derek begged, as images of death flashed through his mind.

 

"Help! Please help!" Iovita shouted, using Derek's voice. "Please."

 

"No!" Derek screamed back, his voice lost in his mind unheard by anyone else. One of the doors opened, and a man came outside. Steven raced toward him, looking just as terrified and panicked as Derek felt.

 

"Help me," Iovita said.

 

"Derek?" he called as he got closer. Iovita stumbled, collapsed, and Steven grabbed him.

 

"Paige! Oh my god, Paige!" he shouted as he lifted Derek off the ground and carried him back to the house. Derek couldn't see what was happening now, Ivoita letting their head hang, their eyes on the ground.

 

"No!" Derek screamed, desperately struggling to get free and take control again. He heard Paige's voice and it made his heart stop.

 

"What the hell is--oh my god," she said, and then she shouted. "Michael take Jacob and go to your room now!" Steven got Derek into their house, onto their couch, and now Derek could see Paige. He kept screaming, over and over, as Iovita stared at her and then to Steven.

 

"What's going on?" Paige asked as Steven went to find supplies. "Why aren't you healing?"

 

"I... I was attacked," Iovita said and reached for Paige. She grabbed his hand, tightening her fingers around his. Derek hadn't told her yet, they'd talked but he hadn't told her that he wasn't a wolf anymore. It had been too new, too fresh and painful, and now this creature was twisting his weakness.

 

"How did you even get here?"

 

"I wanted... I needed a break, I wanted to see a friendly face," he said. "... a surprise."

 

"You know I hate those," she said, but she tightened her hand further. "I'll call your pack."

 

"No," Iovita snapped, and Paige looked startled. "No... I think something is wrong with them." Derek's mind was suddenly flooded with images of Apollo and his pack, corrupted and twisted by the god. Iovita latched onto the images, and Derek realised it couldn't tell how old these memories were, so he pushed them to the front of his mind.

 

"Okay, don't worry," she said, and Steven was back with another woman. Derek recognized the woman, the pack's emissary Kristen, and she busied herself cleaning and tending to the wounds.

 

"Derek," Steven said very softly, looking to Paige before he turned back to Derek. "You... you don't smell like a wolf anymore... do you know why?"

 

"I'm not one," he answered, voice harsh. Derek forced the memory of losing his wolf to the front of his mind, but pictured Apollo in Hades' place. "Apollo took my wolf," he said. Paige tilted her head to the side and looked confused. Derek had told her about what happened, about Stiles and the gods, about Apollo being trapped with Stiles in another dimension. She may not have known that he had lost his wolf, but he hoped she knew that this was wrong. Steven looked back at Paige too, looking more like he didn't believe Derek, than like he was confused.

 

"He needs to rest," Kristen snapped at them, "leave me to work please." Derek watched Paige and her husband slip out of the room. He turned his attention to Kristen, who was busy sealing his wounds. Derek could feel the way Iovita reached for Derek's mind, tugging for memories and information. Derek pulled back, took the information with him, making the tar around him roil.

 

"Give it--" Iovita hissed, making Kristen stop and looked at him.

 

"Derek," she said softly, and Derek begged that she could hear that it wasn't his voice that had been used. "What do you need?"

 

"Water," Iovita said, in Derek's voice once again.

 

"Paige!" she called, "can you bring me a glass of water for Derek." Derek felt himself twist, felt his heart race, and he didn't know if it was _his_ heart or some kind of illusion of consciousness. He wanted to scream, and cry, and beg for them to see them. He needed them to look past the creature, see past its eyes, and see him trapped inside. Steven appeared again a minute later, with some clothes that Derek could put on. Then Paige was there with the water.

 

"Alpha Iunia is in London right now, but she'll be home tonight," Paige said, as he offered the water.

 

"I need to talk to her," Iovita said softly.

 

"She'll know how to help," Paige said. Kristen finished healing Derek's body, checking carefully; before she deemed him fit enough to sit up again.

 

"I'll take the boys to Marina's," Kristen said, and Paige thanked her. Iovita dressed slowly and deliberately, watching Steven out of the corner of his eye as he did.

 

"Feeling better?" Steven asked once Iovita had his clothing on.

 

"Much," Iovita answered.

 

"Paige told me you got Stiles back," Steven said.

 

"Yes, he's back," Iovita answered.

 

"But not with you?" he asked.

 

"He... he is wrong," Iovita said, and the words sounded clunky when they came out of Derek's mouth.

 

"Wrong?" Steven asked.

 

"Wrong," Iovita hissed, making Steven take a step away from him.

 

"Why don't you go lie down in the guest room? You look like you need the rest," he said and gestured toward the hallway. Derek started forcing memories forward, of different houses he had been in. He showed images of the Hale house, his dorm, the loft, even Erica and Boyd's place. Iovita closed their eyes and turned its head slowly as it tried to sort through the images to find this place. "Come on... I'll show you the way." Steven jerked his thumb over his shoulder and then headed off down the hallway. Derek watched Paige hurry her son Michael and her nephew Jacob out the door after Kristen.

 

Iovita walked awkwardly like it didn't remember how to use its limbs, but Steven didn't seem to notice. "Thank you," Iovita said, as Steven pushed open the door and let him into the room.

 

"No worries, I'm sure Paige will come bother you in a bit anyway," he said, and then was heading back down the hallway. Derek screamed inside his head again, pounding and trashing against the tar holding him back.

 

"Quiet," Iovita said, pushing the door closed. He turned and stared into the bedroom like there were secrets hidden in the walls. The creature lurched forward suddenly, moving to the window and pulling the blinds open. "How new," it whispered.

 

"How long have you been dead?" Derek asked.

 

"I don't know," it answered, head tilting to the side as it stared out at the property. "Killed by a greedy child. I was killed by a child."

 

"Your sister?" Derek asked carefully.

 

"She was a child," it repeated, and then someone was knocking on the door. "Come in," Iovita said carefully.

 

"Hey, Dee," Paige said as she stepped into the room. "How are you feeling?"

 

"Fine now," it answered.

 

"Good, good... Are you up for a bit of talking?"

 

"Yes."

 

"Cool," she said, and then carefully sat down on the bed. Iovita took a moment but then moved to sit next to her on the bed. Derek struggled frantically, desperate to keep Paige from the creature.

 

"What do you want to talk about?"

 

"You, mostly. I am glad you came. I know things have been hard for you lately, and I don't think anyone would blame you for needing a little breather," she said, and then smiled at him a little. "I've missed you, with life being so busy there doesn't seem to be time for anything, is there?"

 

"No," Iovita said.

 

"What happened to your pack?" she asked. Derek shoved images of the pack, dazed and under Apollo's control, into the forefront of his mind.

 

"I think... they've been brainwashed," Iovita said.

 

"Again?" she asked and pulled her eyebrows together. Iovita seemed confused by this but just shook its head.

 

"I don't know."

 

"And you... you just left them like that?"

 

"I was attacked," Iovita said again.

 

"And, how did that led to you coming to the UK?"

 

"I was attacked," it repeated, and Derek could see the confusion and worry spread over Paige's face. She tilted her head to the side, just a little, and then nodded slowly.

 

"Well, Alpha Iunia should be back pretty soon, she'll know how to help," Paige said and patted his leg. "Rest, I'll come get you later." Then, she was up and out the door again. Derek desperately wanted Iovita to rest, to curl up on the bed and try to sleep, but it didn't happen. Instead, it sat at stared out the open bedroom door. No one walked by it, and Derek was grateful for it because he was sure he looked terrifying the way he was sitting. Iovita scrubbed his hands, up and down Derek's thighs, like it was trying to work worry out of its fingertips. Derek was sure it just made them look manic, with the far-off stare Iovita seemed to have adopted. Derek kept struggling, yanking and pulling, desperate to take his body over again, but the harder he tried the tighter Iovita held on.

 

"Calm down," Iovita said slowly. "Soon enough, I'll be alpha again."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for another gap, just a little stuck sometimes. I did start writing another fic, that feels like was instantly 17k words without me even realising it had happened. I dunno if I'll get another chapter out (for either) before November, which is when Nanowrimo starts, and I always work on original stories for that. We will see how it goes.


	24. Chapter 24

Night came slowly, rolling through the sky like someone pulling a curtain across the world. Each second sent pains of panic through Derek's chest, as he watched the light slip from the bedroom. Iovita had settled on the edge of the bed, palms pressed against thighs, long werewolf claws he shouldn't have, dragging over the fabric of the sweatpants he was wearing. Paige had not come to check on him in the last few hours, instead busying herself somewhere else in the house. Steven came to the room only once, stopping for a moment like he was going to ask Derek if he needed anything, but then moving on when he was met with an unblinking stare. Derek struggled to listen for any sounds that indicated that Michael had come home, but they never came. Instead, he could suddenly hear a car pulling up outside, the crunch of gravel below the wheels as it drove up the driveway. 

His senses were still human, dulled and soft, but he could easily hear the car outside. It stopped with a clunk like it was too old and needed to be looked at. A moment later there were voices, muffled by the closed window and the distance between them. They grew closer and closer and Derek could feel excitement that wasn't his spread through his body. Iovita didn't move from where they were sitting, hands shifting back to human and digging at the fabric of the sweatpants, staring out the door. "Hey Dee," Paige said, as she came down the hallway. "Alpha Iunia is here. Come on, we'll figure this out." She leant around the doorframe and smiled a little at him. Derek screamed at her, begged her to turn and run away, but she just kept smiling. Iovita rose to their feet and followed a few steps behind Paige as he guided him back to the living room.

There were a few people there now; five betas, not including Paige, or her husband. Emissary Kristen was standing close to the front door, hands clasped behind her back, and eyes locked on Derek as he entered the room. Alpha Iunia was sitting in a huge overstuffed armchair that dwarfed her small body. Her white-grey hair was tied and braided back, her clothing was formal and stiff. She looked like she had stepped forward in time like Derek and Iovita had stepped back. Alpha Iunia was the oldest acting Alpha in the world, maybe even the oldest living werewolf. She was headstrong, smart, and known for being unendingly kind. Derek could see a moment of happiness on her face when she saw him, but all he could do was scream. The tar around Derek turned when Iovita saw her, his body flushing with hatred so strong, that Derek was sure the wolves could all smell it. "Derek," Iunia said softly. Derek screamed again, trashed forward, tried to pull the tar from his body and take control, but he was held fast. 

"Iunia," Iovita said, in Derek's voice. She slowly tilted her head to the side, squinted her eyes, and then very softly she asked. 

"Who are you?" 

"Derek Hale," Iovita answered, lifting his arms up at his sides. The movement was strange and stiff, even more so on Derek's body.

"I've known Derek Hale since he was a boy, and his family came to me for a blessing on him. You look like a monster in a skin suite," she said. "And, if I can see it, it's no wonder Paige was so worried." Iovita turned to look at Paige, who was standing in the entrance to the kitchen. Its head snapped to the side, neck cracking from the speed of it. 

"You sent the children away," it said, and Paige nodded. 

"Things are going to go wrong, and when they do I don't want Michael having to deal with it. You're his favourite uncle--or you at least look like him--it would break Michael's heart if you did something," she said.

"How did you know?" Iovita asked. 

"Besides the fact that you're repeating memories, everything about you is wrong. The way you move, the way you speak, even the way you look at me. All of it is wrong," Paige said. 

"Observant," Iovita said. 

"I had an interesting conversation with your Alpha," Iunia said, pulling Iovita's attention back.

"I don't have an Alpha," Iovita growled and took a step forward. One of the betas stepped forward, but Iunia just held up one of her hands.

"She told me that you got hurt and then attacked your mate," she said.

"He tried to kill me," Iovita said, and the words felt wrong in Derek's mouth. The tar bubbled around him, as the guilt settled around him. The hate and anger he had been feeling toward Stiles was gone, or maybe it had never been his feelings at all. Maybe they had always belonged to Iovita and he hadn't been able to tell the difference. 

"Who are you?" Iunia asked again, this time her voice was firm and hard. 

"You're always so serious, Junebug," Iovita said, his own voice bleeding into the words. 

"No," Iunia said, eyes flashing crimson red. She forced herself out of the chair, feet thumping on the ground as she snapped. "Who are you?"

"Don't you remember me, Junebug? Don't you remember your alpha?" he asked.

"I haven't had an alpha since I was a child," Iunia said, growling as she did.

"Funny how things work, how things move," he said. "Who comes into our lives, so sweet and full of promise. So full of power. So full of evil, taking things that don't belong to them."

"I don't understand how you're here," Iunia asked, and her betas exchanged worried looks.

"Tell them who I am, Junebug," Iovita said voice rough and strange in Derek's throat. "Tell them who I am." 

"You're no one," she said firmly. "Even less now, than when you were alive." 

"Tell them who I am! Tell them!" he screamed, and then lunged at her. Derek felt his hands collide with Iunia, the betas surprised by the speed of a human. Her claws dug into his shoulders, cutting through flesh and drawing stream of blood. Then, just as naturally as before, Iovita shifted. The clothing tore away from his body, leaving him with claws and teeth, and burning red eyes. Two of the betas grabbed him, yanked him back away from their alpha. 

"A Hound," Iunia said, as she watched the betas get thrown across the room. Iovita closed its mouth around one of the betas, filling its mouth with blood and gore, as the betas body crumpled to the floor. 

"Derek!" Paige screamed, and Derek could hear the real terror in her words. "Derek, please tell me you're in there!" Paige shouted, but Derek couldn't move. His consciousness was bound, and no matter how hard he struggled against it, he couldn't move. He was trapped in his own body like a prison, and all he could do was watch claws sink into flesh, while blood and fur flew.

"Tell them who I am!" Iovita screamed again, throwing one of the betas to the side and running at Iunia again. She let him collide with her, sending them both crashing through the front window and out onto the lawn.

"You're a monster," Iunia said. "You're a bedtime story told to keep the children of our pack good. You're nothing but a bad memory and a boogieman!" Derek felt the claws sink into her flesh, so he closed his eyes against it. He struggled more, longer, until whatever part of him was trapped here ached. Then he did the only thing left he could think of ad howled in his own head. Howled until everything ached, and his mind was ringing. He felt Iovita go sideways, collide with the ground, and then scream.

"Shut up!" Iovita shouted, claws digging into the sides of Derek's head. Iunia was suddenly in front of him again, a large sleek black and grey wolf. She sunk her teeth into his leg, tearing and pulling until the Iovita tumbled to the ground. Derek heard his name again, heard a scream and a panicked howl from someone else, and then everything stopped moving. The sound of the world around him slowed down, and the tar that held him in place seemed to tighten. 

"Enough," a voice boomed over the field. Derek could feel the voice vibrate through his bones, making his heart stutter. Iovita turned slowly, body slowed like everything else had been. Derek could see the pack, on the lawn and through the broken front window of the house. There was terror on their faces, even alpha Iunia, still in wolf form, had her mouth open and eyes wide. Then Derek could see the thing that had shouted at him; a huge creature, four times as large as Derek's Hound shift. Its body rippled and pulsed like it was made of dark water reflecting the night sky. In the air around its body were six extended arms, in the highest two hands it held two torches, the next set clutched a set of daggers, and the last two there were balls of magic. Trails of silver swirled around its hands, glittering in the night air, catching the moonlight against it. The creature moved toward him, leaving echoes of itself behind as it stepped, making it look like there were two others in its trail. 

"No!" Iovita screamed, "I will not yield until what was mine, is mine again!" 

"You will yield to your god, creature of poison." The creature had no mouth for the words to come from, just a blank face with two burning golden eyes, but the world still shook from the voice. 

"I will bow to no one!" Iovita screamed. 

"I don't need you to bow."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY!
> 
> A kinda short chapter to get back into this story. I don't know if it's going to be as long as I originally planned, but we will see. I have been so busy, I haven't had time for life, so this took way longer to get back to than I wanted. I also sat down and reread this whole AU, from start until finish so I could get back into the right mindset and see how many plot holes I had.


	25. Chapter 25

The world seemed to slow as the creature in front of him moved, arms twisting through the sky like he was dancing. The lights on the creature's skin moved like shooting stars, leaving lines through the air around him. There was a moment, a second of something that rushed through Derek. A strange feeling of happiness that made his heart lurch, because he got to see this gorgeous towering creature that was beyond anything he'd ever seen before. He got to see Stiles--because there was no doubt in his mind that this was Stiles--more god than man, and it made his heartache. Derek wanted to see him shift; wanted to watch Stiles' body twist and turn into something else. He wanted to watch him become dark water reflecting the cool night sky. He wanted--he wanted--But, this wasn't his body anymore. It wasn't his life and his wants didn't matter. Derek was a source of energy for a parasite that had burrowed under his skin and made its home there. The tar tightened around Derek, dragged him deeper inside, further away from the surface and further away from control. The world around him quieted, as his hearing faded and his vision started to blur.

Iovita growled, low and angry, and then like nothing could possibly go wrong, he launched himself at Stiles. Derek could feel the tar tighten even more, viscous and cloying around him. It wrapped around him so crushingly tight that suddenly it seemed like this moment was the end. Derek was ready to be crushed into tar and blood, between the hands of the man he hadn't even had the chance of really loving. Iovita sunk his teeth into Stiles' arm, black blood filling his mouth, and leaking from between his lips and staining his clothing. Derek couldn't even feel it anymore, couldn't taste it in his mouth or feel it pouring down the front of him.

One of Stiles huge hands came down on Iovita, fingers closed around the creature and yanked it free from the arm. Iovita twisted and clawed at the hand until it slipped free from Stiles' fingers and fell to the ground. Iovita's feet hit the ground; he paused for a second before he launched himself away from Stiles. His claws dug through the grass and dirt, sending clumps up as he ran toward Iunia again. She dropped down low, teeth bared, and she growled. Two of her betas threw themselves at Iovita first, all claws and teeth, but both were sent flying. Derek could still hear screaming, howling, and shouting. He could still see blurry images of fighting, but the world was slipping. Derek could hear Iovita howling over the others, his voice clearer as it rang around Derek and pushed him deeper. He closed his eyes, as he watched Iovita's claws tear through Iunia's side. 

Derek wasn't aware of anything for a moment, just muffled noises outside his mind, and then there was screaming. The voice was young and scared and it seemed to set Derek's soul on fire. His eyes snapped open, and in front of him, Iovita was standing in the middle of a living room. There was shattered glass on the floor like Iovita had been thrown or threw himself into one of the houses. Two boys were in the room, one in the doorway and the other on his back in front of Iovita. Paige's son Michael looked up at him, tears were already streaming down his face, and his mouth was open like he was ready to scream again. "Do you know me?" Iovita asked, in Derek's voice. 

"Uncle Derek?" Michael asked, scrambling further back from the creature. Derek could see blood on the ground near Michael's hand like he had pushed down on the glass as he moved back.

"Grandma!" the other boy--Jacob, Michael's cousin--shouted. 

"Shut up!" Iovita snapped, and Jacob stumbled backwards. Iovita reached out, grabbed at Michael, and hauled him up against his chest. Then a second later, Iovita was being ripped from the house again. Stiles' hand was wrapped around him, tight enough to make Michael shout. "Crush me!" Iovita screamed in Derek's voice. Michael sobbed and Stiles' grip loosened. 

"Put him down!" Paige screamed from somewhere out of Derek's sight. "Please!" 

"Put me down," Iovita snapped, and Derek could tell that Stiles was faltering. Derek began to struggle again, his hands dragging free from the tar for the first time in what felt like days, and he pulled himself forward. The sound of the world got louder, and the fog started to clear. Suddenly, he was aware of Michael against his chest, body shaking with silent, terrified sobs. "Put me down!" Iovita screamed, this time with his own voice. Stiles' hand opened, and Iovita fell toward the ground. Derek could hear Paige scream, and then watched as Iovita's claws tore through the air in front of them, and a portal opened. Derek shouted, and then they were gone. There was darkness that collapsed around them, and then Iovita was rolling across the cold dark dirt. Michael hit the ground a second later, Iovita letting him fall as they moved through the portal. He shouted out a sob and tried desperately to get to his feet and run. Iovita took a second to shift back from the Hound, and then reached out and grabbed Michael. 

The boy shouted, but they were in the middle of nowhere, trees crushing in around them and then miles of darkness. Michael looked up at him, for a moment he looked so scared like he would crumble away after seeing Derek there in front of him. Then he growled through his tears and slashed at him with the small razor sharp claws of a young werewolf. His claws tore chunks of flesh from Derek's stomach but slowing he realised that the wounds weren't knitting themselves closed again. "Who are you?" Michael asked, voice cracking around the words. 

"The boogieman," he answered, his voice warping away from Derek's and to his own. Michael had stilled, hands still out toward the bloodied torn flesh in front of him. 

"Are you Iovita?" he asked softly. 

"How do you know me?" he asked. 

"Granny told me," he answered. "The boogieman."

"She still uses my name?" 

"Not to the others," Michael answered. "She told me."

"Are you to be alpha, child?" 

"Maybe one day," he answered, sounding oddly distracted. "Please make Derek stop bleeding."

"I can't, you cut him open," Iovita said.

"Make him heal," Michael pleaded. 

"I'm not even him," Iovita said. 

"That's not true," Michael answered. He looked up at Iovita's face, tears still leaking from his eyes, but his voice was steady. "I can still see him." 

"An alpha," Iovita said slowly, "a real alpha and I've been trapped inside this fake one." 

"What are you talking about?" Michael asked, and then Iovita slammed him back to the ground. Michael shouted, and Derek screamed inside his head. 

"I'll be Alpha again," Iovita hissed, as his body shifted back into the form of a huge looming hound. The wounds in his stomach didn't close; instead, thick black tar began to leak from the wounds. It dripped down onto Michael's clothing, soaking into his jeans, and staining his t-shirt. Iovita opened his mouth, his body heaved, and tar started pouring from his mouth. The black tar spilled from his mouth, splashing like vomit across Michael's face. Derek pulled desperate and panicked, trying to scream at Michael to close his mouth, his eyes, don't breathe, hold your breath, but none of the words escaped his mind. Then, suddenly, Iovita was ripped backwards, pulled off of Michael and squeezed between huge blue-black fingers. 

Derek heard Michael cry, managed to see him scrambled backwards once again, away from the creatures. Iovita screamed and twisted violently in Stiles' closed hand. "Why are you here? How did you find me?" he screamed. 

"I told you before, you are a creature of poison, you are mine there is nowhere you can hide from me," Stiles answered voice broking and echoing around them. Derek felt the jolt of surprise that fired through Iovita's body, it made his heart seize and all the muscles in his body tense. He thrashed in Stiles's hand, until he wiggled his body free, and landed on the ground with a thump. 

Michael screamed again, maybe afraid of the huge looming creature, or maybe just so afraid he couldn't find who to be more scared of. He was young and terrified and unsure what was happening; only knowing that someone he cared about was in danger but also trying to hurt him. The fear resonated inside Derek, filling him with desperation to pull harder and tear his limbs from the tar. Derek felt everything suddenly, the blood leaking from his chest, the burning in his feet from how he had landed. He could feel the cool night air on his skin, the itch in the back of his throat from Iovita screaming. At that moment, Derek did the only thing he could think of. "Michael!" he shouted in a voice that was completely his own. He threw his arm out, and pointed back at Stiles, as he stumbled out from between Stiles and the boy. "Michael! That creature is my mate, it will protect you!" 

Michael stared at Derek, mouth open and eyes running with tears, but then he nodded his head and scrambled toward Stiles. He knocked back grass and leaves, breaking twigs on the ground, and then vanished behind one of Stiles' legs. This time Derek stumbled forward, slashing his claws frantically through the air, tearing a hole in reality and tipped forward through it. He heard Stiles' voice, and then Michael's, both shouting his name and then he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO I'M SHIT
> 
> I have had amazing writers block, I don't like this chapter, but I wanna keep writing. I wanna finish this so badly. So, posted and moving on.


	26. Chapter 26

He was falling, twisting and turning through the darkness tinged with lines of stars passing by too quickly. He could hear Iovita's voice screaming and echoing around his mind, furious and raging, but Derek ignored it. He let his mind focus on Matthew's face and fear, let that keep him in control. Derek wondered if he could stay like this forever, letting the stars and reality whip past him until everything ended, until there was nothing but him and darkness and Iovita left. Something in him told him that he couldn't, at some point he needed to find a location, or he'd end up right back where he started.

 

He didn't know where to go, who to turn to, or who to talk with. He didn't even know if there was anyone who could help him now. He thought about the gods, and he thought about Stiles. He thought about the way that Iovita had crawl through his mind and made him so disgusting. He thought about the way that he and Stiles had fought, the way his chest had caved in and the look on Stiles' face when he realised it had happened. He thought about the lines and the smudges and the form of the Stiles writing on his skin. Then suddenly, the only thought he could keep in his mind was that Stiles never got to see Derek's writing on his skin. Stiles hadn't experienced this thing that was so much a part of life that most people didn't even think about it. Most people didn't think that they'd never get to feel the soft pitch on their skin as the words or the drawing or the smudges appeared. But, Stiles had, he had gone through part of his life terrified that he would never get that. He had spent so much time thinking that he didn't have someone out there and now Derek had made that happen.

 

The spell Stiles had cast was right, no one would ever cause writing to appear on his skin, and it was all Derek's fault. Derek suddenly wished that every single mark that appeared on a soulmates body would appear on their partner. He wished that every cut would appear, even if just for a moment before they closed again. He wished each bruise would bloom, and then fade in an instant and they could have shared that. Derek wished that Stiles had something, anything that had been his. Derek wished so badly and then, suddenly, Derek crashed to the ground. He landed in a painful tangle of limbs and momentary bruises, and then whatever little control he had was wrenched from him, and he was once again an echo in his own mind.

 

"Where have you brought me?" Iovita growled. "Where have you brought me? Where have you brought me?" he shouted, but Derek didn't answer. He was tired, and his chest ached, and in all honesty, he didn't know the answer. Iovita continued to growl, slicing through the air, creating a momentarily shimmering rift through the sky. Then, before it formed into a portal that he could step through, it flickered and vanished, just like Derek's scars. "No! No!" Iovita screamed. He tore his claw through the air again over and over again, ripping rifts and almost portals until he collapsed to his knees and screamed again.

 

"What is this? Days ago you didn't even know how to open a portal at all, and now you've made your own dimension! How did you do this? Answer me!" Iovita screamed, slamming his fists against the darkness of the ground.

 

"I don't know," Derek said quietly.

 

"How did you bring us here?"

 

"I don't know."

 

"You made the jump without a destination!" Iovita shouted.

 

"If you know so much, why are you asking me?" Derek asked.

 

"We can't stay here forever."

               

"Why not?"

 

"We will die," Iovita answered.

 

"Then we'll die," Derek said like it was the most simple thing. Iovita was silent for a moment, and Derek could feel fear inside of him. He felt the tar roil, and tighten against him, pulling him in closer and tighter to his bonds.

 

"You cannot be so stubborn that you would let yourself die here," Iovita said. Derek felt a laugh escape his throat sudden and without warning, making Iovita growl.

 

"I would rather die, a million times, in a million painful ways, and then let you hurt my family and my pack. I might not be a god, but it seems, at this moment, creature of poison, you are mine. All you have now is me and this darkness around us," Derek snapped. He could feel Iovita realise that he wasn't lying, in the way the tar tightened and loosened around him. It was like he was clenching and unclenching his fists, with Derek crushed between them. Iovita slipped back then, and Derek found his limbs were his own and Iovita--for the moment--was silent.

 

* * *

 

Iovita and Derek were both silent, more often than not, shifting back and forth for control of the body. Derek didn't fight for it anymore and sometimes slipped away into some kind of unconsciousness. The tar would settle and fill his body but it no longer tightened around him. Sometimes, it was almost alarming to realise that he was in control, and then Derek would ignore it. Sometimes, Iovita would scream and thrash and tear through the air with their claws, searching for some form of escape, but it never came. Sometimes Iovita would scream at Derek, the tar would tighten around him, and drag him down like it wanted to drown him, but that never happened. Instead, eventually, the tar loosened and Derek kept his silence.

 

"Let us leave this place," Iovita said, words tinged with desperation. "Let us leave before I feed on what's left of you."

 

"Feed," Derek said firmly.

 

"Why do you not hunger?" Iovita asked, claws coming up and slashing through his arm. The pain must have surged through Iovita because he hissed and pulled his hand away, but Derek didn't feel it. Derek had no answers for Iovita; he didn't know how this place came into being any more than the monster. Iovita had been right, Derek didn't know his own powers, didn't know how to use them. He wasn't even sure if this was a place he could escape if he wanted to. Derek didn't know how long they had been there, how long they had sat engulfed by darkness, or why the slow pains of hunger never reached him. He wondered if time was slowed in this place, or if it had no time at all. He wondered if he would slowly grow to be starving, or if dehydration would take him over. He wished that it would, but it never came.

 

Instead, he closed his eyes and let the darkness hold onto him. He let Iovita have the body, let him burn the energy its creature. Let him throw himself through the darkness, sometimes running for hours and for miles. Sometimes, he curled in on himself and screamed until Derek's soul echoed with it. Sometimes, he'd beg Derek, plead with him to let them be free from this place, but Derek ignored him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, sorry. Just getting things worked out. I think the story only has a few more chapters in it now. It's going to end up shorter than I originally planned, I think.


	27. Chapter 27

 This place, it seemed, was timeless and infinite. No matter how far Iovita ran, no matter how long they sat, there was nothing beyond or around them. Iovita was sure that time had passed, he'd shout out numbers that seemed to be the passing days and months of time. He'd scream and scream and scream until Derek could feel the pain of it, inside of him. "You are killing us," Iovita hissed, his voice hushed like a whisper caught on a breeze.

 

"I'm glad," Derek answered honestly, and then settled back into their silence. He didn't know how long that silence lasted, how long he drifted between consciousness and unconsciousness, but he couldn't find the energy to let that bother him. Sometimes, he let his mind wander to thoughts of Stiles, and how he missed him. He thought of the guilt that lived inside of him, and the knowledge that this was the best way to keep everyone safe. He let himself float, in the tar and the sludge, and it let it hold him in place. The same way that he held Iovita in place, trapped where neither of them wanted to be.

 

"You're not an easy man to find," a voice said behind him one day. It was light and feminine, and it echoed around him as if he were in a cave instead of the vast unending darkness. Iovita twisted the body around, to find out where the voice had come from.

 

"That was the point," he said in Derek's voice. It sounded raw as his spoke, his throat torn from screaming.

 

"I was talking to Derek," she said. She laughed brightly and sent bursts of light pulsing through the air around them, like stars suddenly bursting into life. Iovita found a young woman with brown hair, an upturned nose, and shining blue eyes, standing just out of his reach.

 

"Who are you?" Iovita asked.

               

"I'm potential," she said. Derek remembered then; he remembered her grabbing his hand in Apollo's carnival and dragging him running and laughing and almost manic through the crumbling world and then throwing him through the portal to freedom. He remembered her also standing next to Stiles in the underworld, taking his hand, and vanishing into light and energy and promise and potential.

 

"You're dead," he said.

 

"No, I was a gift that wasn't accepted. I'm not or rather, I didn't die. I just stopped for a little while," she said and started walking closer to Derek. "But, Iovita, I'm not here to speak to you. I'm here to see Derek. So, if you'd please." She reached forward and pressed her fingers to Derek's forehead. Iovita screamed suddenly, and it felt like a bolt had been fired into his mind. There was a crack of noise, like his skull splitting and then Iovita was silent. He snapped back into his body completely then, feeling the heaviness of his limbs properly for the first time in months. For a moment, he thought he was going to collapse under his own weight, but as Hecate's hand found his arm he didn't.

 

"How are you here?" he asked, softly. His throat ached, and he was suddenly overwhelmed with the taste of blood.

 

"Stiles gave me to you, don't you remember?"

 

"What? No, when would he have done that?"

 

"When you were leaving the underworld, he pressed me against your side as you walked away from Hades," she answered. Derek felt his throat tighten and the bitter sting of tears burn at the corners of his eyes.

 

"He's really given me everything, hasn't he?" Derek asked.

 

"You've given him a lot," Hecate answered.

 

"No, no I really haven't."

 

"Derek... what do you know of hopelessness?" she asked.

 

"A lot, I think," he answered, and the tar inside of him twisted and flared. He choked on the sudden taste of it on his tongue. Hecate tightened her hand around his arm, softly squeezing like she wanted to reassure him.

 

"And of Iovita?"

 

"He's poison," Derek said and turned his head away from her. He wanted to spit the taste out of his mouth, as it became too much to stomach, but he couldn't bring himself to. There was a worry, that spitting out any of the tar, would let Iovita go free.

 

"He is a virus, but he is tiny. He poured inside of you, and when Hermes tried to heal you a little piece of him was missed. He touched the infection to your soul, and it did take. But, that tar and sludge inside your chest is not Iovita. It is your hopelessness consuming you. He did make you sick, but you are the reason you will not heal."

 

"I gave up my wolf, I can't heal anymore," Derek said.

 

"Humans heal Derek, and you are more than human even without your wolf. A mate of a god, the hero of Leto, you are a Hound of God, Derek Hale. You can heal, but you're letting it consume you. You let this thing take more and more of you. It bubbles inside of you, it festers and multiplies and every time you felt like it was pulling you deeper it wasn't. You were letting it overflow from you. You pulled yourself deeper and trapped yourself there. You refused to fight it because you were feeling hopeless and helpless and you let yourself believe that that's all there was left. But look what you've done," she said, turning and gesturing out at the darkness around them. "You've created an entire world that is all your own to stop him. When you let your hopelessness fade and you had a moment where you felt something else. When you felt desperation and passion and love for people who mattered to you, you created a world. A dimension all your own, where no one will ever enter or find you. Not if you don't want them to."

 

"Then it is the best thing, for me to stay here. So he can't hurt anyone else," Derek said slowly.

 

"You misunderstand me, Derek. This virus, this parasite, has convinced you that you are worthless. It has made you believe that you are hopeless, made you believe that despair was the only choice. Then it made you believe that you couldn't fight anger, that you couldn't fight revenge. It said that you couldn't be a better person. But Derek, hope and love and kindness, these are all stronger than hate and anger and revenge. As long as you let them be." She turned back to face him, tilting her head to the side just a little. Derek found that he couldn't look at her, and stared past her into the darkness. He could still feel Iovita inside of him, unconscious from whatever Hecate had done. So Derek focused on him, and the longer he did, the surer he was that Hecate was right. Iovita was a bug, it was tiny, it was a remnant, and it was an echo of a thing that no long-lived. It was vengeance and hatred; it was a disgusting little thing with a loud voice and dark, cruel intentions.

               

"How do... how do I stop it?" he asked, turning slowly to look at her.

 

"With a lot of work, because even when the creature is gone, his echo will remain inside of you. I am sorry, Derek, but a stain like this does not simply heal instantly. It cannot be cleaned away just by removing the issue. You must work at it, and you must seek help from others, but over time, I believe it will fade. I do not know if it will ever truly be gone from your skin, but it will fade, and I'm sorry that it will take so long. Recovery is hard, as is the case with most things."

 

"Do you know how to remove him?" Derek asked. "How to remove the sickness? Is there... is there a way to start?"

 

"That... won't be easy either, I'm afraid. Well, I suppose that's not quite true, it's easy, but it's painful."

 

"How do I do it?"

 

"You need to cut him out, and I don't know if you'll survive it."

 

"I need to physically cut him out of me?" he asked. Hecate held her free hand in front of her, and in the centre of her palm, there was a flicker of light. The image of a pink blade came into existence, blinking and flickering like a projection.

 

"Do you remember this?" she asked. Derek stared at the blade in her hand and then remembered.

 

"Persephone gave me that," he said.

 

"You will need to cut yourself open with it, and unfortunately it will hurt on many levels. You're cutting open more than just your body; you're also cutting open your soul. He's not trapped in your body really; he has settled deep inside you, the place where your wolf had made its home. You must remove it from there."

 

"If I cut him out... do you think...?"

 

"I don't know, but I'll come with you," Hecate said, tightening her hand on his arm again. She still hadn't let go of him, keeping him from falling to the ground, keeping him balanced and steady on his feet.

 

"Thank you," he said.

               

"We will leave, when you're ready," Hecate said.

 

"I'm ready," Derek answered.

 

 "Then, take us out of here," she said. Derek watched Hecate's face for a moment, wondering if this was Iovita tricking him. If he was about to let the creature back out into the world without a fight, but as she smiled at him, he knew that he needed to try. If he failed, he would find a way back here, and sit and ignore the creatures screaming for the rest of time.


	28. Chapter 28

The portal flickered and vanished behind them as they walked, Derek's hand clenched tightly around Hecate's. His clawed feet digging into the soft earth underneath him, tearing through the morning dew covered lawn. The light around them was early morning soft, the sky soft blues and pinks, with a burning slash of yellow and orange rising from the horizon. He could see Stiles' house in front of him, smell the rain on the air, and wondered what month it was now. "Spring," Hecate said softly. The house looked almost the same, just cold and empty like no one had been there for a while. The front lawn and gardens were overgrown and full of weeds. Derek could see that there were boards hammered into place, on the side of the house, covering the hole he had made however many months ago.  

 

"I don't remember what it was when I left," Derek said quietly. He could feel Iovita stirring in his chest, shifting slowly back to consciousness, so Derek started moving faster. Hecate didn't answer him this time, just pulled him along behind her. He reached the front door in seconds, hand closing around the cold brass handle, and twisting. The handle clicked against the lock, so Derek yanked harder, to try and break it. Instead, a jolt of electricity fired through his palm making him step back.  

 

"Break it down," Hecate said firmly. Derek glanced at her, spared a thought about going and asking a pack member for a key, but felt Iovita twist again and instead chose to throw himself against the door. The pack was too far away, back in the preserve, hidden by the forest and distance. Derek didn't have time to run to them, Iovita would win if he tried. Hecate's hand slipped from his, as he threw his weight behind the movement. The wood protested as he hit it, and more electricity fired through him but he ignored it. It took three more slams before it splintered, and another six before he was through it and into the front entrance. "Quickly," she said, as she followed him inside.

 

The last time Derek had seen the knife, it had been sitting in a box, getting ready to move. He had wrapped it in packing paper, set it aside as unimportant because he hadn't needed it to get Stiles in the end. He had wanted to return it to Persephone if he could, to thank her and let her know it had been unnecessary. Now, he cursed himself for thinking that a god would be wrong about something. He ran through the house, tearing open boxes as he went, sending the contents spilling across the mostly empty rooms. He could hear Hecate doing the same, pulling open boxes, tearing open paper and then moving on. He knocked over a stack of boxes, sending contents scattering or smashing inside sealed boxes until he found himself in their bedroom. He suddenly remembered sitting on the edge of the bed, wrapping the paper around it. He grabbed box after box, tearing them apart, with a frenzy that made his head spin.

 

He could feel Iovita stirring in his chest, reaching desperately for control of Derek's limbs. "What are you doing?" the voice hissed in his mind, echoing off his skull and vibrating in his bones. Derek didn't answer, just grabbed another box, tore it in half, and watched the contents scatter across the floor. He heard a thud and crack, as a wrapped object smashed carelessly against the floor, and he dove for it. His claws tore through the paper, revealing the smooth polished pink glass. Now, cracked along the handle from where it had hit the ground, but still sharp when he ran his finger over the blade. Iovita's voice screamed through his mind, frantic and desperate, pleading and begging for Derek to stop. "She's lying to you! She's lying! I make you stronger! I make you better!"

 

"You don't make me anything," Derek said, and with bravery he didn't feel, he plunged the knife into his chest. He tore it down the front of his body, dragging it past his ribs, hearing it click along the bones as it went. Derek focused on the screaming in his mind instead of the pain, like he could be convinced that he wasn't cutting himself at all. It hurt more than anything Derek had ever felt before, as he willingly tore, not only through his flesh but into his soul as well. The tar started slipping from his chest, coming forward slowly at first before it became a torrent. It dripped down over his hands, pouring down the front of his legs, and pooling on the ground around his feet.

 

He tore the knife from his stomach, sent a spray of blood and tar across the room, and then slammed it back into his chest at a different angle. His arms were starting to shake, the knife wet with blood, becoming harder and harder to hold onto. Derek felt his knees hit the ground next, cracking against the hardwood and sending a painful ache that was only there for a moment before the pain in his chest reasserted itself. He gasped for air, choking on what he got, and then he felt Hecate's hand on his arm.

 

"I'm so sorry, so sorry Derek. I promise you'll feel better," she said softly. Derek turned to look at her, blinking through tears to try and see her face. He realised she looked scared, and he wondered if maybe--maybe this didn't work at all. He could still hear Iovita screaming in his mind, still thrashing, still desperately clawing his way through the tar. Now, he was desperate to remain, trying to pull himself deeper into Derek's soul. To pull himself deeper into the dark hiding places of the vessel he had chosen, but the screaming grew quieter and more distant until suddenly it stopped altogether. Hecate's voice whispered around him, her form flickering and disappearing in front of him. "Everything will get better if you only survive," she said, and then her voice was fading and slipping out of his mind. He realised that he was losing that gift as well, as well as the sickness that had been there.

 

His vision started to blur, as Hecate vanished from in front of him, and everything around him started to spin and swim away. He felt himself collide with the ground, splashing into the sickness and tar that had pooled on the ground at his feet. Suddenly, all he could think was that he desperately hoped that this really was the end and that he wasn't even sure, if he cared that this ending might include his life.

 

His vision swam in front of his eyes, making the room into water dark shapes that held no meaning. His mind wandered, as everything went dark, to wishing Stiles was with him right now. It went to how badly he wanted to hear his voice, even if it was just for a few moments before everything was gone. He knew, in that moment, that he would wait for Stiles in the Underworld. No matter what Stiles' lifetime was, Derek was ready to wait through all of it. Even if it turned out that when Stiles arrived, they weren't together forever, even if it was only a moment to see him, and speak to him, Derek would wait. It was a strange kind of certainty that settled inside of him. The knowledge that no matter how little time he had actually spent with Stiles; no matter what kind of hardships they had, or how much of it had been fighting or pain, Derek wanted nothing else than to wait for him. He wanted to have the opportunity to love him, even if it was only in moments.

 

Derek heard a voice suddenly, one that didn't belong to Stiles, but it was soft and male, and even though it wasn't comforting, it did give him a moment of hope. "What will you give me, Derek?" Hades asked. The voice echoed through the empty chamber inside of him, where his wolf had been, and the sickness had filled. "What will you give me?"  

 

Derek opened his mouth, desperate to offer anything he could, desperate to beg for another moment. A single second where Stiles was with him, but all he could manage was a bubbling gurgle from deep in his throat, as blood filled his mouth. It splattered through the tar on the ground around his face, as he tried to choke out the words. "Shh, don't speak; you don't have the energy for that. Think what you would give me." Derek tried to find something to offer, but all that came to mind where images of Stiles and the time they had lost. He thought of Stiles smiling, of him singing, of his covered in dirt and pollen that made Derek sneeze. He thought of him absent-mindedly rambling until there was nothing that could possibly be said because the real topic was long lost and Derek was never really sure how it got there. All he could think about was Stiles and regret, and the hate and anger inside of him, but mostly of Stiles and all the things they'd never done. "Very well," Hades said. His voice fading away, like Iovita's had, and like Hecate's had.

 

As darkness consumed him, and he struggled against unconsciousness, everything was silent for the first time in months. Then, he could hear soft tapping along the hardwood floor. The gait was so familiar that it was part of Derek himself, and then he felt a wet nose against his cheek and the soft, warm press of a fuzzy muzzle. Suddenly, something flipped him over, and then there were paws on his chest that started to dig. Claws started ripping at the already open wounds on his chest, and it hurt so much Derek couldn't stop himself from screaming. He opened his mouth, but all that happened was a bubbling gurgle of blood, just like when he had tried to make his request. The claws sunk deep and the paws followed, and then the wolf tipped forward and fell like it had stumbled off a cliff. Derek felt warmth fill his chest, as the wolf twisted and turned, settling back into the hole that its absence had left, and for the first time in months Derek was whole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm getting to the end, much sooner than I had originally planned, but I'm okay with that.


	29. Chapter 29

For a moment, everything was silent, and there was nothing around him. He was floating again, like in his dreams, like nothing was real. It was almost comforting. Then, it was gone, and there was a crashing noise, and suddenly someone was shouting his name over and over again. He felt hands on his arm, someone shaking him like that would somehow help. "Derek! Oh my god, Derek!" Laura shouted, pulling him up off the floor. "Wake up! Oh my god, whose blood is this?"

 

"Mine," he mumbled. He grimaced at the metallic taste on his tongue, and then turned his head and spat old blood from his mouth. He turned to look back at her, taking in the lines of her face, and the panic in her eyes. It was always Laura, wasn't it? She was the one that always came to him, pulled him back to his feet, and worried about him.

 

"How can any of this be yours? You aren't even hurt! What happened?" she snapped, fingers digging into his arms. Derek thought about the knife, about cutting himself open, and the blood coating his hands. He remembered the tar, thick and sticky and pouring from his chest, Iovita screaming in the back of his mind. He remembered Hecate's voice, pushing him forward and faster. He remembered Hades' voice, deep and soft and vibrating through his bones.

 

"Where's Stiles?" he asked, instead of answering her. His voice caught in his throat as he forced the words free, panic seeping into his bones.

 

"He went looking for you, months ago," Laura said, "Erica said you went crazy."

 

"I did... I did," Derek said, scrambling free from her grasp. As he pulled away, his head swam, and the room seemed to spin around him for a moment before he found his balance. He could feel his wolf again, refilling the place it had originally lived. It shifted under his skin, forcing away the last of the tar and the infection that Iovita had left behind. It hummed beneath his skin, in his mind, and even though he was panicked, he felt at home. He let out a shaky breath and turned to look back at Laura again. She was staring at him, with wide eyes and her mouth slightly open. "You haven't seen him in months?"

 

"I haven't, but Deaton and John have both seen him. Mum too," Laura explained. "But, it's been a long time since he was last home." Derek nodded slowly and then reached inside of himself. He could still feel the spark of life, deep beyond his wolf.

 

"I need to go outside," he said. He didn't wait for Laura, just gave her a warning, and then started out of the house. On his way, he pulled the pink knife from the sticky tar from the floor and held it in his hand as he went. Laura followed behind him, so close; it was like she couldn't decide if she should grab him. Derek made it outside, through the broken front door, and out onto the lawn. Laura's car was pulled into the driveway at an angle, lights still on and the door left open. He glanced over at her, to the car, and then back to Laura.

 

"The door was broken down," she answered, and Derek realised she had her phone out. She was rapidly typing out messages, sending them off to the rest of the pack, he guessed.

               

"I'm not staying," he said.

 

"Like hell! It's been eight months since you went missing! We have been frantic!"

 

"I need to find Stiles," Derek answered.

 

"He'll show up! He's a god, for fuck's sake, it's not like--"

 

"I think I gave him to Hades," Derek answered.

 

"You, what?"

 

"I think..." Derek started, but something in his chest pulsed with panic again. He focused on the feeling, letting it consume his thoughts. He reached past his wolf, through himself, and to that thing deep inside that wanted to exist. He grabbed at it, and his body shifted and rippled and exploded into a creature that was larger than it had ever been before. He heard Laura scream, saw fear take over her features for a minute.

 

"I'll explain when I come back with Stiles," Derek said.

 

"What the fuck, Derek?!" she shouted, but Derek ignored her. He thought about Stiles, pictured him in his mind the way he looked when Derek had met years earlier. He pictured him tall, a little lanky, wearing stupid t-shirts, and his bright red hoodie. He pictured him laughing and covered in dirt, and spell ingredients. Then, he dropped to all four and ran from the house and away from Laura, as she shouted his name after him. He heard his mother's voice howl through the morning sky, but he kept running. He ignored the pull to his alpha and focused on the image of Stiles in his mind. He ran until he was surrounded by trees, moving deeper and deeper into the preserve. He then tore through the air in front of him, his claws leaving trails that became portals. Then, he threw himself through the portal, crashing out the other side, rolling to a stop. He found himself in the middle of the parking lot of his building; Cora and Layla were in the parking lot. They were strapping kids into the car, probably racing out to see him after Laura had texted.

 

Layla's head turned, as she caught his scent on the air, and she found him a second later. "Derek?" she called, uncertainly.

 

"Derek?" Cora echoed, but Derek didn't wait. He turned and darted back for the trees of the preserve. He didn't know how this worked yet, but picturing Stiles from years before hadn't worked. So he pictured him again as he ran. He pictured him shifted, huge and made of the night sky. He pictured him with too many arms, and skin littered with stars. He tore through the air again, with more confidence this time, and found himself standing at the edge of Rossborough pack's land. He didn't move closer, just looked down at the houses. The damage they had caused was repaired, almost like nothing had happened at all, except for small discolouration between the paint colours on the walls of the house. He sniffed at the air but found no trace of Stiles scent here.

 

He swore to himself, turning and running again, picturing places and things that he knew Stiles loved. He tore through the air, jumped from location to location. He saw glimpses of his pack, moments that he dropped in on as he searched. He was desperate to find him on Earth, here and safe. He jumped through John and Melissa's house, through Scott's, and through Lydia's, through Erica's and Boyd's, through Isaac's, through Cora's, through Laura's, and even stumbling through Peter's and then his parents. He jumped until he was frantic, and all he could think about was Hades' words in his mind. The same sentence over and over like a song he only remembered part of. _"What will you give me?"_

What _did_ he give him? He could remember Hades' asking, whispering close to his ear and Derek remembered responding with the only thing he could think of at the time, and it was Stiles. Hades had to know that he didn't want that, he had to know, but... did he take him anyway? Was Stiles going back to the Underworld, the only acceptable trade for his wolf? Was it one or the other, but never both? Was there anything else he could have given, that meant as much and was as worthwhile to Hades? Could there be?

 

So, Derek focused on the twisted and rusted, monstrous spires, that curled in defiance of gravity in the Underworld. He focused on dark stone and wandering souls, on strange foreign plant life, and horrible monsters. He cut his claws through the air again, and he jumped through the portal. Derek felt the cold air before his vision cleared, and when the smell hit him next, his heart clenched in his chest. He wanted to leave the moment his feet hit the ground, but he knew he couldn't. The underworld smelt almost like Iovita did sticky sweet but old and rotting, like fruit that's been forgotten about for just too long. He appeared in the courtyard of the castle, all of Cerberus' heads, snapping to attention as he appeared. Only to let out three low, sad whines, and instead of rushing to attack him, lowering itself to the ground and staring at him. He walked past the dog, pausing long enough to rub each of its heads, and the moved into the caste.

 

The inside of the castle was cold, but Derek pushed on, ignoring anyone who looked at him. He stopped in front of the two standing guard in front of Hades' throne room. They looked at him for only a moment, before they pulled the doors open for him to pass. Hades was alone this time, sitting slumped in his chair, looking for all the worlds like a sulking teenager. "Why are you here?" he asked, voice soft and tired.

 

"What did I give you, in exchange for my wolf?" Derek asked. Hades shifted in his throne, tilting his head to the side and studying Derek's face.

               

"You don't remember," Hades said.

 

"No... I remember what I was thinking about, and you told me that's what you'd take," Derek answered. A smile played at the corner of Hades' lips, making Derek want to take a step away from him. Hades rose from his throne, his robes spilling around him as he moved.

 

"You don't remember what you've given, and you're scared that I took something from you that you couldn't live without?" he asked.

 

"Yes," Derek answered, "I'm scared that I gave up something that wasn't mine to give."

 

"Lucky for you, wolf, as you've said, he's not yours to give, and I did not take him. Did you lose your mate?" Hades asked as he descended the stairs toward Derek.

 

"I... yes," he said.

 

"Perhaps he was preparing for the penalty of breaking a promise to Styx? After all, he swore," Hades said and waved his hand at Derek. He followed the movement of Hades' hand, watching it twist through the air between them.

 

"Thank you," Derek said softly, making Hades pause.

 

"Excuse me?"

 

"You... returned my wolf."

 

"A deal was made," Hades answered, turning a little away from him.

 

"If that's all you wanted, couldn't you have just taken it the first time?"

 

"Persephone was displeased with me," Hades answered.

 

"I appreciate it, all the same, so thank you," Derek said and then took a slow step back from him. "I'm sorry... for disturbing you, in my panic." He turned away from Hades and started back toward the still open doors.

               

"Wait, just a moment," Hades said. Derek paused and then turned back to him. He was suddenly only arms reach away, face soft, and a smile on his lips.

 

"It's been a very long time since I have received sincere offerings; most things are given as a joke, with no real power or worship behind it. I have not interfered in the lives of mortals in a very long time, receiving offerings from someone who knows exist, who has spoken with me, is very different. You had no reasons to do that, but you did, and because of it I give you my favour Derek Hale. Know that you are favoured by the gods, and we will guide you if we can." Derek bowed to Hades, dipping low and graciously toward the god, before he stood again and made to leave one more time, before hesitating.

 

"What... did I give you?" he asked slowly, glancing back at Hades again. The man was back in his throne again, slouched to the side, elbow on the armrest, and face resting against his hand.

               

"Regret, Derek, you gave me your regret."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 100,000 words y'all


	30. Chapter 30

He moved through the underworld, confident that he was safe, for the first time in so long it made his head spin. He had no idea of where he needed to go, or how he would go about finding Stiles, so instead, he walked. He let his thoughts slip away, let the worries of Stiles being trapped or hurt, slip away as well. Stiles was, after all, a god. So, Derek focused on the feeling of his feet against the cold ground and then walked until everything hurt.

 

"Where are you going?" a woman asked, but Derek didn't pause.

 

"I don't know," he answered, around a mouthful of sharp fangs that muffled his words.

 

"Do you believe that it will help you? Not knowing," she asked. He could suddenly hear the click and drag of a cane and old feet against the ground.

 

“Knowing didn’t help, maybe, not knowing will be what I need,” Derek answered. He glanced over at the woman next to him, a frail old body hunched forward, gripping onto her cane like it was the only thing keeping her upright. Her clothing was soaking wet, and she as leaving temporary water stains in her wake. She hummed thoughtfully at his answer and then bobbed her head from side to side.

 

“It seems as reasonable as any other thought,” she answered. Derek wondered how she managed to keep pace with him. His large steps should have left her behind in seconds, but instead, she walked alongside him. He turned his attention back to the dirt road before him, where the straight path had been lost, and a forest bloomed into existence. The light of the world around them vanished between the shadows of the trees, but Derek continued forwards, and the woman followed.

 

“Do you know where he is?” Derek asked once they were swallowed by the forest. There was a strange familiarity to her, an aura that he recognised and was comforted by.

 

“Always,” she answered between the clicks of her cane on the unseen ground.

 

“Are you… Hekabe?” he asked.

 

“Yes,” she answered. “And you are Derek Hale, the man blessed by the gods.”

 

“It seems that way.”

 

“It is that way,” she said, her voice cracking as she spoke and took on a softer tone. He glanced at her for another moment, decided that arguing would do no good, and turned back to his path.

 

“Is Gale around?”

 

“She’s at home,” Hekabe answered. “She will guide the next soul.”

 

“Is that what you’re doing? Guiding my soul?”

 

“Perhaps or perhaps, I am simply accompanying you,” she answered. The crack of old age slipped from her voice, and Derek heard her cane clatter to the ground. He watched as her body curled forward, like she was falling, and then shift into a large wolf. Her paws sent up plumes of dry earth from the forest floor. The shift in her body was strange to watch, less violent and more magic. Her bones didn’t seem to snap in and out of place. Instead, they moved like fluid as she changed.

 

“Did Stiles ask you to?” he asked, after a few moments.

 

“No,” she answered. “He is looking for you.”

 

“Will you guide me to him?”

 

“Is that what you desire?”

 

“More than anything else.”

 

“Then come, Derek Hale, follow me,” she said, and then she ran. For a second, Derek thought about it, how this could be a lie, she could be anyone, there was no proof. He had asked her name, he had asked about Gale, she had told him nothing. He didn’t know this place; this world was foreign, strange, and dangerous. He knew that. He really, really knew that, but still, he ran. He dropped his hulking form to all fours and tore through the trees behind Hekabe. She darted back and forth, moving under and around falling trees and thick thorned bushes. She moved with purpose and a vast knowledge of this place. Derek stumbled through it.

 

His fur caught on thrones, tearing chunks from his hide and leaving a trail of himself along his path. He slammed into and through logs, sending scatterings of splinters across the ground. He felt blood leaking down his legs, burrs caught and tugging at his fur, but still, he ran. All he could hear was the pounding of his heart in his ears and the rushing of air around his head. Hekabe’s footsteps were lost in the, now soft, leaf covered ground. Her breathing didn’t seem to exist, and even when he strained to hear it, there was no heartbeat to find. So, he tracked her with his eyes, following the dark shape until his limbs burned and he thought his lungs were going to give out. Then the trees parted suddenly, and she was standing upright and human, in front of him. Derek slid to a stop, stumbling back to his feet, panting for air before looking at her again.

 

She stood in front of him, dressed in loose black robes that twirled softly around her. Her long brown hair was partly pulled back and out of her face, tumbling down her back in soft curls. She turned her head to look at him and smiled sweetly. Beyond her was nothing, just the sheer drop of a cliff and, what seemed like, the night sky repeated over and over again forever. “Plans change,” she said softly, and the words echoed in his mind like a dream. He turned to look back at her, trying to focus on her face, but finding that he couldn’t. “No matter how well planned they are.”

 

“No one is to blame,” he answered.

 

“Chase him,” Hekabe said. Derek turned his attention to the sky beyond them, vast and dark, and missing the moon among the stars. He threw his head back, as he had once in a dream, howled to the sky, and then threw himself from the cliff into the darkness below. “Chase him,” he heard Hekabe say a second time, and then she was gone. Her voice lost on the wind, and his body twisting through the air as he plummeted. He let himself fall, relaxing strangely into the moment, where he was so ready to die and live all at once. Then, he pictured Stiles, just as he wanted him to be.

 

He pictured him, standing in front of him, hands tucked into the pockets of his red hoodie. He pictured an easy smile and stupid jokes. He pictured painted nails, henna designs, and rings that they would make together. He pictured a family, their daughter, their grandson, their future burning wildly in front of them. Then, he tore his claws through the air, leaving trails of silver blue magic steaking in the air around him. He felt his body hit the portal, like carefully slipping into a lake, and then he was colliding with the ground. Derek rolled onto his side, taking a moment to listen to the world around him before he pushed himself back to his feet. In front of him, looking almost nothing like he had pictured, wide-eyed and dirty was Stiles.

 

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” Stiles said, his voice catching as he did like he might start crying.

 

“Me too,” Derek answered, around his fangs.

 

“Well I’m glad you found you,” he said, smiling a little.

 

“I’m sorry it took so long,” Derek answered.

 

“Compared to when I was in purgatory, it probably felt like a long weekend.”

 

“Worst long weekend of my life.”

 

“Me too,” Stiles said. There was another moment of nothing, no movement from either of them, no words or sounds, and then it was broken. Stiles ran and jumped at Derek, letting the wolf catch him in his arms. Stiles threw his arms around Derek’s huge shoulders and buried his face in the crook of his neck. Derek could feel Stiles’ body wracked with sobs, convulsing against him. “This is all my fault, I’m sorry, it’s all my fault.”

 

“No, it’s not,” Derek answered, letting his form slowly shift away. His body shrunk back down until Stiles' feet were hitting the ground, and they were almost the same height again. “If anything—” Stiles pulled back from Derek, just enough to look at his face, without letting go of him.

 

“If you blame yourself, Derek Hale, I’ll—”

 

“What?” Derek interrupted.

 

“I’ll… I’ll stay stuck to your side until we die,” Stiles answered.

 

“I hope so,” Derek said, and then he kissed Stiles. They crashed into each other like waves finding the beach and clung to each other like they were the only things holding other down. So, they kissed until they could breathe, and then they kissed until their lungs hurt, and then they kissed until it had been so long that both of them were sure it was becoming weird.

 

“I love you, Derek,” Stiles said earnestly when they finally pulled apart again. Their bodies still pressed together, as close as they could get. Derek could feel Stiles breath against his face, and he wanted to kiss him again, just because he could.

 

“I love you too, Stiles,” Derek mumbled, “I love you so much.” He pressed in close and kissed him again. Just for good measure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> H'okay.


	31. Chapter 31

There were many things that needed to be done now, and Derek was determined to do them all. There were relationships to fix, homes to repair, and people to contact. The pack didn’t throw a party like they usually did when someone returned—though normally that was returning from school or years of travel—and Derek appreciated it. They let him, and Stiles slip back into their lives, like they had never been gone, and gave them both time before asking what had happened. It was Laura and Cora who became impatient first, ambushing them on the second day in their new house. Stiles pushed Derek toward his sisters and promised to keep unpacking while Derek explained.

 

“You… created another dimension…?” Laura asked after he finished telling them everything. He could hear Stiles moving around in the other room, clinking together dishes as he unwrapped them and then put them away.

 

“I guess so,” Derek answered, hands wrapped around a warm mug of tea.

 

“You can create other dimensions,” Laura said.

 

“I guess so,” he repeated.

 

“Fuck, that’s complicated,” Cora said from beside Laura. She was staring down into her mug of tea, thinking about what Derek had told them. The room felt heavy now, and Derek wondered if he had said too much, too quickly.

 

“Think you could make a timeout dimension?” Laura asked. Her voice was a little stained, and Derek knew she was trying to force a shift in the mood of the room. “One I could just dump the kiddos in for 15 minutes at a time?”

 

“Infinite darkness seems like a reasonable punishment,” Derek said, raising an eyebrow at her.

 

“Is that a no?” Laura said, smiling at him.

 

“It’s a no,” he answered, and she laughed.

 

“Fine, the old-fashioned way it is,” Laura said.

 

“Beating them with a belt?” Stiles asked, as he came into the room and set down a half-eaten bag of Oreos. “Only snack food we have at the moment,” he added, as Cora took one of the cookies.

 

“Newspaper to the nose, while shouting bad dog, actually,” Laura answered, and then sipped her coffee.

 

“Reasonable,” Stiles said, as he shuffled back into the kitchen.

 

“Do you need help?” Derek called after him, for the fifth time in the last 30 minutes.

 

“Nope, just visit,” Stiles answered.

 

“We could help,” Laura said, for the third time since she’d arrived.

 

“It’s fine!” Stiles said. “I can’t explain where I want things to go, so it’s easier if I just do it.”

 

“He’s reorganised the library three times,” Derek said. “He put the books on the shelves alphabetically at first, just for unpacking. Then, he sorted them alphabetically by genre, which he said was the end of it. But, then he wanted them by colour as well. I’m pretty sure he’s going to sort them by size next.”

 

“It will be faster once I’ve finished!” Stiles called.

 

“Oh man,” Cora said softly, and Derek turned to look at her. She had a grin on her face which made Derek frown and scrunch his eyebrows together.

 

“What?” he asked, and then looked at Laura who was grinning at him as well. “What?”

 

“You are so in love,” Laura said. “Like, stupid in love.”

 

“I—”

 

“Haha, he loves me,” Stiles said, sticking his head back into the dining room. “What a terrible burn.”

 

“You’re wrecking the joke, Stiles!” Cora snapped, as Stiles pulled out of the room again with a laugh.

 

“I am,” Derek said smiling a little. He didn’t look at his sister’s when he said it, just stared down into his mug of tea and listened to Stiles heartbeat in the other room.

 

“Just you left now, Cora,” Laura said, turning her attention to her sister.

 

“Gross,” Cora mumbled and stuffed another Oreo in her mouth. They didn’t ask many more questions after that, leaving Derek to assume they needed to think about it for a while. Or maybe, it was too much to think about at all, and it was easier just to let it go. They stayed for a few more hours, finishing their drinks, and helping Derek unpack part of the garage. They left in the late afternoon, giving Stiles just enough time to shower and change before he went to see Talia and Deaton. He had the unenviable task of explaining what had happened to them, and while Derek was sure that soon, his mother would want his side of the story, he was currently content in letting Stiles do the talking. He was better at it anyway.  

 

Derek made his way to Sam’s condo that night, where he had dinner with his brother and Eilís. “He’s very nice,” Eilís said to him when Sam had gone to the washroom. Eilís was clearing the table of their dishes, and Derek was taking them from her, rinsing them, and then loading the dishwasher.

 

“What?” Derek asked, glancing back at her. She was staring down into a glass of water, and Derek was suddenly aware of quickly her heart was pounding.

 

“Stiles,” she said, “I’ve had the opportunity to meet him now, properly. He’s very nice.”

 

“Oh, I’m glad you think so,” Derek said.

 

“The last time we talked about him when you were taking me to the airport that last time,” Eilís said slowly. “I don’t think I realised the enormity of what you were going through. I didn’t know enough about Stiles or… or you, honestly. I’m just so impressed by you, Derek.”

 

“You don’t need to be,” Derek said, trying to wave off the sudden feeling of embarrassment he felt. He turned back to the dishwasher, even though there was nothing more to load. “It’s just how things were.”

 

“You… are a strange man, Derek,” Eilís said, her tone becoming a little more relaxed. Derek glanced back at her for a second and felt like he was somehow intruding on a moment he wasn’t meant to be apart of; even though she was speaking to him. She seemed so confident in her assertion, and Derek suddenly wondered how often she helped Sam through moments of self-doubt and self-deprecation. He knew his brother was getting better, feeling more and more like a person again, and Derek was sure that Eilís did a lot to help that.

 

“I know,” Derek answered softly, and she smiled at him.

 

“As long as you know,” she said.

 

“Am I interrupting something?” Sam asked as he came back into the room. He looked from Eilís to Derek a few times, but neither one of them answered him. “Alright, I see how it is,” he said and left it at that. Derek spent a few more hours with them, before bidding them good night, and then walking home through the preserve. His feet took him along his running trail, snaking through the preserve with often travelled knowledge. The trees were quiet, the air was cool, and it was strange. The silence settled around him, comfortable and concerning at the same time.

 

He was ready, almost all the time, for things to go wrong, and each time he reached his home uninjured was a relief. He found Stiles in the kitchen, cutting through plants Derek didn’t know the names of. Derek moved across the room, warped his arms around Stiles, and held him to his chest. “Rough night?” Stiles asked, smiling.

 

“Not in ages,” he mumbled against the back of his head.

 

“Want it to be?” Stiles asked, humming.

 

“Is that a sex question?” Derek asked, making Stiles laugh.

 

“It wasn’t.”

 

“Is it now?”

 

“I think so,” he said. Stiles turned around, pressing a quick kiss to Derek’s lips, before pulling away from him. He took a minute to toss the plants he was working on into the fridge, and then wash his hands of whatever was on them.

 

“Are those safe with the food?” Derek asked as Stiles rushed him out of the kitchen.

 

“We’ll find out tomorrow,” Stiles said. “I know some good healers if it isn’t,” he added. Derek turned sharply, grabbing Stiles around the waist and heaving him up into his arms.

 

“I’m holding you to that,” he said and carried him to their bedroom.

 

***

Derek spent the next day with Sana and Emily, and the day after with his parents. He started his official training to become an alpha a few days after that, and suddenly weeks had passed, then months, and then a year was gone. Suddenly, Derek was going to conferences with his mother and was being introduced as the future alpha of the Hale pack. Stiles took over for Deaton, and the old emissary moved to South America where he found his soulmate. It was strange, how quickly everything was swallowed by the passage of time.  

 

He dropped his keys into the bowl by their front door, shrugged off his jacket and hung it up. He and Stiles had decided to take a vacation of sorts, they both still had work to do, but they were going to do it from home, they just wanted some time together. It had been a quiet year, where he had alternated between seeing his family, his friends, and spending every spare second he had holding Stiles. He ambled through the house, listening to the way it settled as he moved. They had long since finished unpacking, long since adjusted and readjusted their possessions, until they were exactly where they needed to be. It was their home now, and Derek wouldn’t trade it for the world.

 

He made his way through the house, to the kitchen, and out onto the back deck. He could hear Stiles humming to himself from his Greenhouse, on and off catching words that slipped through Stiles' lips as he worked. “What do you want from me blood?” he sang, and then Derek heard the soft intake of breath as Stiles cut his finger open. There was a soft bloom of magic, that illuminated the windows of the Greenhouse, and it made warmth spread through Derek’s chest and seep into his bones.

 

He let the sound of Stiles consume him, and relaxed listening to the steady thump of his heartbeat. He slowly moved down the steps of the deck, and then settled on the last one, with his legs stretched out in front of him. He watched the clouds pass through the blue sky until suddenly another heartbeat appeared. It was rabbit fast for just a second before it steadied into something Derek recognised. He could smell her before he saw her, the quick sharp smell of brass, and a strange floating feeling that seemed to accompany her. Ingrid appeared in his peripheral vision, walking toward him like she hadn’t just teleported to him. “Afternoon, Baby Grand,” she said, wiggling her fingers in a wave. He nodded his head to the step he was sitting on, and once she was close enough, she dropped down next to him.

 

“Afternoon,” he said. She stretched her arms and legs out in front of her, and then crossed her legs at her ankles and relaxed. She stared out into the forest just off the property and let out of soft content sigh.

 

“This place is always so pretty,” she said.

 

“It tends to be,” he agreed. She nodded her head slowly, glancing over at the Greenhouse for just a moment, before turning back to the forest. She was right, Derek realised, as he looked into the trees himself. It had changed over the year, the colours shifted slowly, new plants were growing, and there was a soft smell of magic. All of which were the result of Stiles and his powers seeping into the land around them. They were silent for a long few minutes before Derek looked back at her.

 

“Did you need something?” he asked.

 

“I was wondering if I ever actually get my watch back,” she answered, tapping her fingers against the wood of the deck. Derek dug into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out the watch. It was still warm to the touch when he closed his fingers around it.

 

“Not in any of the timelines I’ve visited, but I don’t want to be part of those ones anyway,” Derek answered and offered her the watch. Ingrid turned and looked at Derek for a moment, before letting her eyes settle on the watch. She lifted her hand like she was going to reach for the watch, fingers twitching with a desire to grab, but Ingrid stopped before she could touch it.

 

“I wonder if another me, or me from another time is the one that’s meant to get the watch, and that’s why I’ve never taken it from you,” Ingrid said.

 

“Maybe it took so long to fix me in the other timelines that the watch got lost or broken,” Derek said, the watch still sitting on his open palm. Ingrid nodded her head, a little absently like she was thinking about something else. Then she reached forward and carefully closed Derek’s finger back around the watch.

 

“Maybe you keep holding onto that for me; I’m sure you’ll know what the proper time to give it back is,” Ingrid said and squeezed his hand around the watch a little tighter.

 

“Alright,” he answered, and pulled back from her. He tucked the watch back into his pocket, and then studied her face for a moment. “Are you sure?”

 

“Yeah, I trust you,” she said as the Greenhouse doors opened. Stiles came out with a bucket in his arms, dirt smudged across his face and caked under his nails. He smelled of earth and magic, and when he saw Derek, he grinned widely at him, and then put on a bit of a show of being surprised to see Ingrid there. He put the bucket down near his feet, straightened back up and then bowed deeply.

 

“Lord Chronos,” Stiles said.

 

“Lady Hecate,” she answered. “You’re looking well.”

 

“Feeling it too, are you here to collect on your debt?” Stiles asked and picked back up his bucket of flowers.

 

“It’s not the right time yet,” she answered, pushing herself up off the steps. “What do you have there?”

 

“An offering, a thank you, a gift of sorts, I suppose,” he said.

 

“All those things, hey?”

 

“And I’ve got milk, honey, and wine inside,” he added.

 

“Who’s the lucky God that’s getting all this attention?”

 

“I guess you’ll have to wonder,” he said, and then winked at her. “But if you’ll excuse me, I have some work to do.” Stiles stepped around Ingrid, leaned down long enough to press a kiss to the top of Derek’s head before he headed up the stairs and disappeared into the house.

 

“I suppose that’s what I expected from him,” Ingrid said.

 

“So, he doesn’t grow out of it?” Derek asked, following Stiles’ through the house by listening to his heartbeat. Ingrid laughed brightly and shook her head.

 

“Stiles never grows out of anything,” she said.

 

“I’m looking forward to it,” Derek said, and she let out a laugh.

 

“That doesn’t make sense,” she said.

 

“I don’t need it too, as long as I have him,” Derek answered.

 

“Awe, that’s so sweet. Maybe I’ll find someone like that someday,” Ingrid said, stretching her arms up over her head.

 

“I think you will,” Derek answered.

 

“Cute, but I don’t have a soulmate,” she said.

 

“I don’t know, Stiles thought the same thing,” he said, and she smiled.

 

“Maybe you’re right,” she said, and Derek shrugged. There was a strange, disjointed feeling, whenever Derek was around Ingrid. He thought it must be because she was always half a step out of time with the rest of the universe. It was even stranger when he realised that he knew things that she didn’t. The dreams he had and the memories they showed him, he seemed to have knowledge that didn’t fit this timeline. He had seen her slipped into his pack, standing with him for years, laughing as she held hands with Jonathan. But, this version of Ingrid, seemed to have never met him before. Ingrid studied Derek for a moment like she was looking for something in his face, and he worried that he had someone revealed something to her. Then, she sighed and turned back toward the forest. “I suppose it’s time I go.”

 

“You can stay for dinner,” Derek offered, but she just shook her head.

 

“I have a lot of work to do.”

 

“Is Stiles going to have work to do, at some point suddenly?” Derek asked.

 

“If he wants, easier for us gods that come and go as we please,” she said. “The ones that live in purgatory tend to do more, as there are fewer people to bother.”

 

“I guess we’ll see when Stiles gets bored of just being an emissary,” Derek said.

 

“Keep track of that watch,” Ingrid said, “it’s important.”

 

“What does it even do?” Derek asked, placing his hand on the watch in his pocket.

 

“Have you ever opened it?” she asked.

 

“No, I… I didn’t think about it,” Derek answered honestly.

 

“You’re a wonderful man, Derek,” she said and then she was gone. Derek stared at the place where she had been standing, where there was now just a wisp of magical energy that drifted away on the breeze. He squeezed his hand down on the watch, feeling the warmth against his leg, and his palm through his jeans. It took a few minutes before he slowly got to his feet and headed back inside. He could hear Stiles speaking, a soft laugh, and then another voice answer.

 

“Thanks, aba, it’s the last thing I needed,” Jonathan said.

 

“Be safe,” Stiles answered earnestly.

 

“See you soon,” Jonathan answered.

 

“As soon as I can,” Stiles answered, and then he was alone again. Derek stepped into the kitchen, watching Stiles place the bucket that had been full of flowers onto the ground. It was now empty, and the expensive bottle of wine Derek had bought was gone as well.

 

“The offerings been sent, then?” Derek asked, walking toward him.

 

“Jonathan’s a sweet kid,” Stiles said. “It’s too bad it’s going to take so long to meet him.”

 

“We’ll have lots of time with him, from the sound of it,” Derek said.

 

“I can’t wait,” Stiles said, grinning widely. “So holding onto the watch for a while longer then?” he asked.

 

“I’ll give it back to her eventually,” Derek said.

 

“Really? And when do you plan on doing that?”

 

“I figured a wedding present seemed appropriate,” Derek answered, running his hand along Stiles lower back. He let it rest there so that he could feel the steady warmth of Stiles body near him.

 

“She’s invited you to her wedding?” he asked.

 

“Not yet, but I’m guessing she will.”

 

“What do you know that I don’t?”

 

“I’ll let you know in 60 years.”

 

“60?” Stiles asked.

 

“More or less.”

 

“Alright, I’ll ask you again in 60 years,” Stiles agreed.

 

“You won’t have to ask,” Derek said. Stiles smiled a crooked grin at him, as he turned the rest of the way to face him. He let his hands rest against Derek’s chest, and the two of them stood together in their orange kitchen. A colour Derek hated on sight, but let Stiles paint the room anyway because walls could be repainted. He barely noticed it anymore, after a year of living with it, just another part of Stiles that lived in their home. He noticed it even less when he focused on the embers of Stiles' eyes, and the way his lips curled into a soft private smile. Derek moved forward and kissed him, moving his hands so he could cup his cheeks, and pull him closer. He kissed him over and over against until they both were breathless, and Stiles was laughing.

 

“You’re such a sap,” he said, “don’t you have work to do? I remembered something about a house that needs to be drawn or designed or whatever it is you do exactly. O’future alpha of mine.”

 

“I do have work to do, but it can wait,” Derek said.

 

“Mine can’t,” Stiles said, gesturing to the remaining flowers on the counter. “They need to be a potion before sunset of I have to wait another month. Your mum won’t be too happy about that.”

 

“Fine, tell me what you want for dinner when you know, okay?” Derek said, letting go of Stiles.

 

“As soon as I figured it out,” Stiles said like a promise. Derek leaned in and kissed him another time before stepped back and made his way out of the kitchen. He slowly went upstairs, listening to Stiles steady heartbeat. He let the rhythmic thump, thump, thump settle him and calm his soul. He stepped into his office, caught the door, and for a moment thought about closing it. But the sound of Stiles working would be lost behind the soundproofing, and instead, he chose to work with the distraction so close by. He made his way to his desk, pulled the watch from his pocket again, and set it against the wooden surface where he kept it most of the time now.

 

He turned on his computer, opened the plans he needed to work on, and check his email quickly. He grabbed at a Post-it note when he saw there was an answer from Paige letting him know that she was expecting him and Stiles to visit soon. He wrote down the dates she had sent him, and then stuck it to the side of his monitor, so he remembered to ask Stiles what worked best. He moved to put the pen back into the holder at the back of his desk, but instead, he hesitated. He stared at the pen in his hand for a long moment, before he pulled it back to him. He carefully put the pen to his skin on the back of his hand, slowly and deliberately, for the first time he wrote.

 

‘I love you.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took a long time, but there it is. Tadaaa. I know there were things I wanted to deal with more in the story, but they didn't end up getting resolved. If I were writing this as a typical book, I'd go back and rework it in the edits, but I'm probably done with this for now. I do have a few ideas for scenes that didn't make it into the story that I'd like to write. So, those might come at some point too. I hope you guys enjoyed the ride, liked the ending. Sorry about my copious amounts of errors, I just skim too hard as I edit I suppose. 
> 
> Thank you for all reading and commenting and everything. Seriously, it has made me so happy and continues to do so. <3 Who would have ever thought my weird little story about Derek waking up with a penis on his forehead would turn into this.


End file.
